


quiet words

by allu-ria (waffelingaround)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Curses, Family Dynamics, Illegal fighting rings, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Magic Shops, Magic-Users, Mental Health Issues, Minor Injuries, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Past Car Accidents, Recovery, References to Depression, Selectively Mute Character, Slow Burn, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffelingaround/pseuds/allu-ria
Summary: They say everyone is made of stardust. Keith wonders if that's where his magic originates from.Falling into a new lifestyle isn't easy, especially when dealing with his brother, a lot of misunderstandings, and almost killing everyone at his new job. But hey, with the help of his new co-workers/maybe-friends things can't be that bad, right?(The answer, it turns out, is more complicated than he thinks).__A story of how Keith finds his voice again.





	1. from the mirror a voice says "hello, it's morning, huh"

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: Never Lost Word [(eng version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_FjPxJF0oc) | [(original version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4Qqu16ffVk) and Quiet Room [(eng version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkZU_5KAFvQ) | [(original version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYoCy5BHoo0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back.... with a new fic... again. WELL you see, I WAS working on my other fics but then for some reason I thought of this fic and couldn't stop thinking about it. So I pushed myself to just get it all out and now here we are, but this time, I actually have a draft of the ENTIRE FIC so I won't lose motivation halfway through;;; 
> 
> As I was writing this, inspiration came from two songs: Never Lost Word [(eng version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_FjPxJF0oc) | [(original version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4Qqu16ffVk) and Quiet Room [(eng version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkZU_5KAFvQ) | [(original version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYoCy5BHoo0) Please check them out!
> 
> Also, when something is written with underline and bold, that means Keith is either writing something out, or spelling it out with his magic. Just for your reference!

Keith hadn't meant for things to turn out this way. He really  _hadn't._

Exhaustion creeps in his bones as he finally lets himself sit on an old chair, empty boxes strewn across the sunset-lit floors. Maybe it's because he's unfamiliar with the furniture, or maybe it's because there's barely any decoration around, but his new apartment still feels just as unfilled as it was when he first came early in the morning. The only thing that really defines this place as  _his_ are the medals, the wooden carvings, and a framed picture of him, Shiro, and their parents. 

Noise surrounds him, from above, from below, left and right,  _everywhere._ Stomping, murmuring, doors opening and closing — there's life, all around. The thought of it is calming, a sharp contrast to the deathly quiet Keith had dealt with for the past year alone. 

The silence was what probably drove him over the edge. 

Actually, a lot of things basically 'drove him over the edge.' He supposes it would take more than isolation to break him. He isn't sure how or when it started; what he knows is that all the little things somehow combined into one, big, messy ball of stress that had forced Keith to retire and make the recent move. 

Well, it was an unofficial retirement — a "break" or "vacation," one might say — but Keith assumed it would still be a while until he saw the Arena again. After being kicked out, Keith had found himself homeless yet again, with little to no money to support himself. It was also around this time when Shiro updated Keith with news, announcing that he would be leaving their hometown behind for a new, smaller one to officially help out at his friend's magic shop. 

So when Keith had finally scrapped together enough money from odd jobs a few months later, he had packed his few belongings and bought a home closest to the only family he had left. He was lucky, because the town Shiro moved to — a small, quaint place called  _Silver —_ wasn't too far from where he was.   
  
And now here he is, wondering where and when things went wrong for his life to come to this. For it to be so  _bad,_ that he ended up having to physically remove himself from the one thing he was good at. 

But a part of him is also glad he's out of the Arena, at least for a little bit. Now that he has more than enough time on his hands, he can finally catch up with his brother, and... well, look for a better purpose in life than providing cheap entertainment in fighting rings.   
  
_Small steps,_ Keith chides to himself. _Small steps._  
  
When he was younger, he had dreams of owning a shop, similar to where Shiro worked. It's what most magic-users end up doing anyways. Despite the minority of people who could actually master the art, magic still affects most of the population. Whether it's old, cursed objects from history, or charms and potions that can be used to cure a recurring illness, people are more than happy to support the magical industry. 

Long story short, people like Keith and Shiro are high in demand. But hopes for that kind of future had been ruined when he quickly realized he really couldn't do  _helpful_ magic. 

His magic, was, and still is, only useful in _fighting._ The most he could offer was a friendly duel, which was why he ended up becoming an Arena player, despite all of Shiro’s warnings.

 _I should have listened,_ a bitter part of him whispers.

But Keith snaps his eyes open, shaking away his thoughts. _Breathe in, breathe out, let go._ As much as he would love to, there’s no use dwelling in the past — Keith has spent enough of his life looking back and being angry. Self-pity is a habit he needs to break out of.

So Keith simply sits, taking in the noise and reminding himself of what he wants to do now that he’s here.

A few lanterns float around his living room, fire dancing behind paper walls inscribed with charms. They had been a welcoming gift from Shiro, an attempt to make his new home… well, _home._

And they’re probably his favorite thing in his apartment. Not that there’s much for the lights to compete with — Keith had made the move as soon as he could, meaning most of the furniture he has are hand-me-downs and yard-sale items. _Other people’s trash,_ in other words. Not that he really minds. The spongey, grey couch works well with his tilted coffee table anyways. 

When his stomach growls after a few minutes of resting, Keith realizes that it's around dinnertime and he hasn't even had  _lunch._ Maybe there's a grocery store nearby? Or even better, some sort of fast-food joint? The town, true to Shiro's word, is  _small,_ and from Keith's apartment he could probably reach the main street in about five minutes by walking.   
  
With the decision to try and go out made, Keith goes to his just-organized closet and picks out what he hopes is an inconspicuous outfit. A cap to cover his face. A scarf to cover his neck. Worn jeans, and a dull-red jacket, with gloves. Basically, what he usually wears everyday.

He's just about done with getting ready when his phone chirps with a message. Keith isn't surprised to see who it is. 

 

 **Shiro:** Have you settled in yet?

 **Shiro:** I would also ask about dinner, but knowing you, you didn't have anything to eat yet. 

 

Keith rolls his eyes at the jab. 

 

 **Keith:** yeah, everythings pretty much set

 **Keith:** and i was just about to look around for some dinner

 **Shiro:** I knew it. Get ready, i'll be there to pick you up in five minutes.

 **Keith:** you don't have to come with me

 **Shiro:** Don't give me that. 

 **Shiro:** I know all the good places to eat anyways. Don't you want to spend some quality time with your older brother?

 **Keith:** just because you said that, no

 **Shiro:** :(  
  
**Keith:**...but i'll be waiting, i guess

 **Shiro:** :) 

 **Shiro:** That's what I thought.  
  
**Keith:** shut up

 

He can't help but smile as he tucks his phone back into his pocket. Keith hasn't really been in contact with Shiro since he became an Arena player, and now he wonders how he ever survived without talking to him for that long. As annoying Shiro can sometimes be, Keith treasures the banter they have.   
  
Keith just hopes things haven't changed between them too much within the past year.   
  
It isn't long before there's a knock at his door. It's when his hand is hovering on the doorknob when Keith hesitates. 

 _What if he doesn't recognize me? Or what if he's totally different now? What if it's really awkward? Does he even know I tie up my hair now?_  
  
_Breathe,_ he reminds himself.  _It's_ Shiro,  _not a stranger. He'll understand._

Even with the pep talk, Keith isn't prepared for what he sees when he opens the door. 

Standing before him is unmistakably Shiro, but also  _not._ At least, not the Shiro he knew before he left. The Shiro from a year ago had deep bags under his eyes and hunched shoulders. He always had coffee, along with lazy sweatpants and T-shirts that probably hadn't been washed in a while. He was a  _tired soul,_ a bit lost ever since their parent's death.   
  
But this Shiro is so much  _brighter_ it's hard to look at. Nice clothes, most likely fresh from the laundry. There are still bags, of course, but the tired look in his eyes is replaced by a twinkle that hadn't been there before. His prosthetic doesn't look as awkward and out-of-place anymore. He smiles easily, and his entire demeanor radiates  _calm._

He looks  _healthy._ And Keith is suddenly reminded of how he hasn't had the time or money recently to clean his clothes. Or that he's gotten incredibly skinny since the last time they met. That his skin has settled into a permanently sickly shade at this point, and he can't remember the last time he slept well.   
  
_At least one of us is recovering well,_  he thinks to himself. There's no jealousy behind the statement — just a mix of happiness for his brother, and acceptance that Keith is falling behind. 

"Keith," Shiro says casually, as if he's only seen him a few days ago and not a whole year. He peers into the apartment and takes notes of the lanterns. "Glad to see you're using those. Room still looks empty though." 

If Shiro notices anything different about Keith (which, in all honesty, he one-hundred-percent  _does),_ he doesn't say anything about it. So Keith doesn't say anything either. 

But then, they're  _hugging,_ and the way he pats Keith's shoulder is gentler than he ever remembers it being, and Keith has to take as second to remember just how good Shiro is at reading him. 

He hugs back just as fiercely, as if responding. As if this single moment of touch can convey all the things he's done and felt. Keith breathes in deeply to smell his brother's cologne.  _At least that hasn't changed,_ he finds himself thinking. 

When they pull apart, Keith purses his lips and gives Shiro his most sarcastic look, trying to hide just how emotional he got.  _I didn't ask for your opinion on my interior design skills,_ he tries to convey. 

Shiro raises an eyebrow at the pose. "Well, you've gotten spunkier since last time. Has fame  _corrupted_ you?"  
  
The words sends ice through his veins, but he rolls his eyes and smiles anyways.   
  
_It was just a joke,_ he reminds himself. But the bitter undertone in his brother's tone, no matter how slight, was there. Shiro thinks the answer to his question is  _yes._ _  
_

_No,_ is the answer Keith gives, shaking his head. 

But the words that resonate through him isn't either of those: it's  _I don't know._ Being at the Arena was definitely... an experience. 

 _Wait, no._ Keith tries to shake the thoughts away. Now is  _not_ the time to analyze every word Shiro has to say. Now is the time for  _food_ and  _reunion._

Keith gestures to the door with his head.  _Are we going or not?_

Shiro breaks into a smile at that. "Yeah, lets go."

Outside, the mid-winter air is cool enough to cause visible pufts of air at their every breath. Most of the buildings they pass are old, patches of wood and metal on the outside holding the structure together, most likely by some sort of magic. The sidewalks are uneven and clumps of dead grass are peeking through the cracks. Shiro points to a building after passing a particularly dim street lantern.

“That’s where I live. Feel free to visit anytime.”

Keith nods, taking note of the surroundings. Shiro’s place looks similar to his in terms on exterior design, but there are subtle differences that Keith doesn’t miss. The bright lights of all the windows, wall décor and plants on little patios… Shiro’s apartment complex looks a lot _better_ than his own. Keith thinks back to his own place, with the half-hearted repair attempts and crumbling stairs.

He’s not surprised that his apartment complex was the cheapest around here. _At least there’s other people,_ he reminds himself.

They keep walking, and soon the grey sidewalks change into cobblestone paths. Dozens of small stores litter the sides, towering over pedestrians and casting dim shadows. Despite the shading, the place is bright, lanterns illuminating the various trinkets and oddities, like glass wind chimes and incense candles, framing each store. People sit around at little tables with umbrellas, the chatter filling the air, and Keith can see at least 3 dogs from where he stands. A small street sign reads _Silver Road._

And it’s… somehow bigger than any city block he’s ever seen.

Keith squints, trying to make sure he’s seeing things correctly, because how can there be so much _noise_ and volume when there’s only like, what, fifteen people around? 

Shiro chuckles knowingly from behind. “Feels big, right?”

He just nods.

“It really isn’t though, once you get used to it. I’ve only been here for a few months so far, but even when I didn’t live here everyone was so… alive, I guess you could say. It just fills up space. I think I felt out of place for like, only two days.”

Keith snorts at that — he isn’t surprised, because _heck,_ the _buildings_ look alive, just by themselves. They’re all clearly old, with dilapidated roofs, crooked signs, and fading paint peeling off the wooden frames. A few people who notice them walking by wave to Shiro and give Keith kind smiles. He had half been expecting this place to be somewhat behind in terms of culture, since it was so incredibly _out there,_ but Keith finds himself staring at a few modern cafes, book stores, and technology shops. There are even brand name stores, and it just feels weird seeing bright neon-lights against what looks like almost-crumbling houses. _Maybe they just wanted the keep the old aesthetic?_

Taking everything in, he finds himself understanding why Shiro loves this place so much, why he wanted Keith to live here too. The whole ‘small community’ thing is totally Shiro’s style, not _his,_ but maybe… Keith can get used to it? For some reason, the task of finding his place in a new environment doesn’t seem so daunting when he’s standing at the center of a quiet sort of chaos.

 _But there’s also the fact,_ Keith grimly notes, _that everything seems to be made of wood. One wrong move, and everything crumbles. Literally._

The thought brings Keith’s spirits down a little.

If Shiro notices his inner-monologue thing going on, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes to pointing out a few of the local shops around the area, and Keith _swears_ that he tries to remember the name of each place. He really does. But _hey_ , it’s not really his fault when the candle store looks almost exactly like the music store right next door, and _oh, how am I going to survive?_

“And this is the Balmera Diner, one of the best places to go for a warm meal,” Shiro announces, and the big, neon hamburger illuminating the store front just shows that at least _this_ store knows how to make itself distinguishable.

Even from here, he can smell good food. Well, actually, Keith is pretty sure he could be fed burnt steak and he’d still claim that it was the juiciest meal he had ever eaten — he’s gotten a little desperate after eating only McDonalds for so long.

But Shiro said this was the best place to eat, so Keith shoves any doubt away in his mind and pushes the door inside.

The rush of warm air and smell of cooking food, combined with the sound of popping oil that hits him reminds Keith of just how hungry he is, how hungry he _has_ been for the past _week._ Arena players were barely paid anything and his minimum wage jobs after were no fun either. Eating at a place like this was a luxury Keith had forgotten about. Shiro just lightly punches Keith’s shoulder, sensing his eagerness.

“Come on, let’s get seated. I know you’re dying to eat.”

There are only four other groups in the diner. Linoleum floors shine under bright, fluorescent lights, and a few potted plants stand hear the doors. A waitress, whose name tag reads _Shay,_ leads them to a booth that looks outside.

"Thanks Shay," Shiro says once they're seated. "This is my brother, Keith. He just moved in today."  
  
"Oh, welcome to Silver!" she says kindly. Keith awkwardly bows to say hello. If she thinks Keith is rude for not saying anything, she doesn't show it, writing down what drinks they want (water for the both of them) and quickly scuttling away with a bounce in her step.   
  
Keith looks out the window and finds himself staring. 

The view must be facing away from the main street, because the only thing he sees are trees and hints of water, only seen through the reflection of light from the half-moon that currently hangs above the sky. 

Right now, alone with Shiro, warm music blasting from speakers, makes Keith feel at… _peace._ Peace, as he looks over Shiro once more, who has aged, just like he has. Peace, as he looks over the menu, taking note of all the warm food he can have. Peace, as he looks at the sky above them, the color of the clouds matching their street name, the town name, and the light shining in Shiro’s eyes.

 _Silver._  
  
And suddenly, just for a second, Keith feels more at home than he's ever felt. 

The moment doesn’t exactly _break —_ it just fades out. And Keith tries to savor the feeling before it completely slips through his fingers.

“Have you decided?” Shiro asks, a question in his eyes, bringing Keith out of his thoughts. 

Keith, skimming one last time, nods.

Shay comes back a moment later, and Keith orders what looks like the largest meal — a double chicken burger with a side of fries, onion rings, and chicken fingers. Nothing like a good, old classic. Shiro himself gets some sort of steak with mashed potatoes.

"I know I said I was paying, but you didn't have to order one of the most expensive things here," Shiro mutters jokingly. Keith sends him a deadpan look, before rummaging around his pockets for a pen.

 _I’m. Starving_ _._ He writes on a napkin, handing it over to Shiro, who reads over his harshly underlined message with a chuckle.

When the food comes, Keith thinks he's never been happier. 

He’s so busy stuffing himself that he doesn’t realize that Shiro is giving him a _look —_  the sappy kind of look that makes Keith feel things he would rather not —until he’s halfway through his meal. Which says a _lot,_ because Keith is a slow eater, and he usually senses when his brother is being overly emotional and tries to stop him. 

 _What?_ He tries to convey through a mouthful of fries. 

"Oh, it's nothing," Shiro says with a sigh.   
  
Keith crosses his arms, glaring at Shiro because it's clearly  _not_ nothing. Although he has to admit, it doesn't take much to bring his brother to tears. He recalls a fifteen-year-old Shiro sobbing over Monsters Inc, and then the same thing happening four years later.   
  
When Shiro gives another half-hearted shrug, Keith points to him and opens closes his hand like a mouth, a stern expression on his face. 

His message:  _You. Talk._

If possible, Shiro's eyes seem to get brighter. "It's stupid, trust me." 

Keith rolls his eyes, and writes out another message on a napkin. _I know it’s stupid. Still want to know what it is._

"I mean—" Shiro starts after looking over his words "—I just... It's nice to have you back, Keith. I'll be honest, it was really tough without you... and I'm glad you're still you, after everything. Like I said, it's stupid but... yeah."

A pause; he isn't sure how to react.

Keith tries not to feel guilty at what Shiro is saying. He suddenly realizes that, no matter how good of an empath Shiro might be, or how well he can read Keith, there's a huge chasm that just comes from being apart. And no amount of magic can fill that. 

He's always known, even from the start, that when he left he'd been gone for a while. But that gap of time seems so much  _wider,_ just in that moment. 

Maybe with enough time, they'll be able to fill each other in. But not now, not yet. So Keith hides his sentiments, and smiles lightly.

 _You're a sap,_ he writes. Then, carefully,  _I'm glad I'm back too. I think I needed the change. The Arena was never really..._

 _Home,_ he wants to write, but the pen trails off. Shiro seems to understand anyways.   
  
It's silent for a while, until—

"Are you going to finish those? Because if not, I'll just take some of your f—"

Keith hisses and covers his food with his arms, shaking his head rapidly. 

"Oh come on," Shiro says with a pout. "I give you  _my_ food all the time."  
  
A raised eyebrow.  _And that means...?_

"Don't be so stingy! Just —  _come on—"_

Shiro tries his best. he really does. By the end of their honestly, completely unnecessary battle, Keith is about eleven fries poor from when he first started, and can only stare in lament as the rest of his food is picked off by a triumphant. Keith manages to steal some mashed potatoes though, so he's not a _complete_ loss. 

 _I missed this,_ Keith belatedly realizes.  _I missed Shiro._ _I'm actually enjoying myself._

And of course, as soon as the thought settles, something  _has_ to break his good mood. 

"Come work at the Lion's Den." 

Keith curls his  lips, the words no already forming at the back of his mouth. A flash of regret goes through Shiro's expression as he senses Keith's sudden mood drop, but he still looks at him with determination. 

"Think about it — you're unemployed," Shiro continues relentlessly. "It's a great place too. I know you'll love it."

 _I'm not really looking for a job right_ _now,  _he lies.  _Besides, what can I do at that kind of store? My magic's for fighting, not fixing, or whatever it is that needs to be done._ He slams his pen down when he's done. 

"You can sell your carvings," Shiro pushes. 

Keith's fingers immediately skin over the knife tucked into his pockets, and thinks back to the days where he could carve whenever he wanted. But...

_Those don't even have any magical properties. How do you expect that to sell in a shop tailored for magical things?_

"They  _look_ magical, though. And besides, I could use them as vessels."

He doesn't have an argument for that one. But Keith weakly shakes his head  _no, no, no_ anyways. 

(He wants to say yes. But he also doesn't trust himself to not ruin something so... pure, and bright, and full of life. He hopes Shiro catches up on his hidden answer, then immediately swallows the thought). 

Shiro opens his mouth as if to say something, but then sighs a moment later, giving up. If there's one thing that's stayed the same over the years, it's how stubborn Keith is. "I mean, if you really don't want to, I won't make you..."

_Good._

"...but at least drop in when you can, yeah?"

Keith's eye twitches. He had almost forgotten that Shiro can be as stubborn as he is. It's his turn to sigh, and as much as he wants to say no to this too, he can't ignore the look Shiro is giving him. 

 _Fine,_ he relents with a shrug.  _Only sometimes._

He tries his best to underline the word 'sometimes' as much as possible, but Shiro looks as if he already won. Keith chews on his lips in spite. 

It's small talk after that, and while Keith usually despises small talk, it's nice when it's with him. He lets Shiro talk about what it's been like, finish school, driving hours just to get to the shop before finally moving in, and how he had worked 3 different jobs trying to get an apartment here. The area isn't a  _luxury_ or anything, but neither of them had been born rich. Keith thinks back to his own struggles and victories, thinks of all the stories he wants to share, but stays silent throughout. 

Soon they're done eating, and when they leave it's dark out. The amount of lanterns around the streets makes it easy to see, though. Keith doesn't even need to summon a flame for more light.

Maybe it's the fact that he's full for the first time in a while, or maybe it's the fact that he's with  _Shiro_ after so long, but in the middle of their quiet walk home he finds himself tugging his shirt to get his attention. Shiro looks over with a grin, expectant,  _waiting._

Keith, for whatever reason, opens his mouth — and he tries, he really  _does,_ but there is nothing, no words, not even for his brother. He wonders how he must look, expression shocked as if even  _he_ didn't know that his vocal chords wouldn't cooperate, hadn't in a  _long_ time. 

But Shiro just ruffles his hair, and Keith pouts, because  _really?_

Keith tries again. This time, there is a bit of sound, a small something he manages to rasp out. But as soon as he gets out the 'Sh' sound out, everything _dies_ , and he can't remember what he wanted to say for the life of him. Words crawls back down his throat, and Keith is hit with the realization that he really, truly, is  _voiceless_ at the moment. 

Does Shiro know that those are the first words he consciously tried to say since the year started? Does Shiro know what he’s trying to say at _all?_ Why is Keith suddenly trying again, anyways?

Sensing his struggle, Shiro smiles sadly. Keith hates that look the most.

“Like I said… I’m glad to have you back, Keith.” Shiro says. “I’ll text you the address to the store soon — white and blue paint, called ‘The Lion’s Den.’ Can’t miss it. Remember I’m always here if you need me. Oh, and make sure you settle in and explore by yourself, sometime, yeah? You don’t have to push yourself but I want you to r—“

Keith pulls on Shiro’s sleeve again, except with more force. _Shiro_ _,_ he wants to say. _I got it._

Shiro just laughs, and Keith distantly hopes they're on the same page. He’s been laughing and smiling a lot this night. “Sorry, sorry… just wanted to … welcome you to Silver. It’s our new home, you know? And I know you’re gonna love it here."

 _Silver._ He tests the word in his thoughts. _What a s_ _trange name for a town._  

"Well, I've kept you for long enough and you look exhausted. I'll walk you back." 

No words are shared between them after. It's truly dark now, and the small street lights seem more like floating fireflies. When they get to the front of Keith's apartment, he expects Shiro to leave, but when he stops at the door to say goodbye his brother just looks at him expectantly. 

"Are you going to go in, or do I need to open the door for you?" he says teasingly. Keith huffs. 

And so they go, up to the fourth floor. The stairs creek under their weight, as if unused to the work. He can practically  _feel_ Shiro judge this place. It's probably much nicer where Shiro lives. 

They soon reach room number 43,right at the center. When Keith fumbles with the keys and finally unlocks his door, Shiro looks into the apartment one last time, as if trying to absorb the atmosphere of the place.   
  
Keith waves awkwardly.  _Goodbye, and Goodnight,_ he thinks.  _And thank you for the food._

Shiro hugs him one last time. _"I'm proud of you,"_ he whispers. 

And then, Keith is alone again. 

He doesn't move until he hears Shiro's footsteps on the stairs fade for sure. After changing into his pajamas and brushing his teeth in his tiny excuse for a bathroom, Keith starts his way to his bedroom. His futon takes up majority of the space, a window overlooking the side of the building hanging over it. The wooden outline frames the moon perfectly, and in bed Keith imagines that the silver body is watching over him,  _protecting_ him. 

He falls asleep peacefully for the first time in a long while. 


	2. holding onto thoughts I can’t convey, yet have so much that I want to say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith comes across two strangers and immediately fucks it up. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYHEYHEY I've decided to keep the chapters pretty short... but as someone who likes long chapters this kinda pains me... any opinions on chapter length? ? ? Please let me know if you care! Other than that, just thank you in general for picking up this fic :,) it means a lot to me. So enjoy!!

Keith dreams of fire. 

That in itself isn't a strange occurrence. They say dreams are closely linked to one's magical aura. That some can even manipulate this energy to foresee the future. Keith, personally, can't control any of that mumbo-jumbo, so like most magic-users his nights are usually filled with cryptic messages and symbolism that no one but the dream mages really get. But he's smart enough to make the connection that, as a fire specialist, flames are going to be a pretty big thing in his sleep. 

But it's the type of fire in this dream that's unusual. 

His own fire is destructive. It's  _powerful._ Fueled by strong emotions, it flares up inside him and _burns_ whatever it can touch, like his body is a match and the world is oil. It leaks from between his fingers, even if his gloves are supposedly infused with the best nullification spells. It spills from his mouth, even on his calmest days. It only takes one spark for things to turn to ash — his bedsheets, his skin, his life. 

Right now, though, Keith finds himself by a fireplace. The flames flickering close are nothing like the usual infernos Keith is used to seeing — it's not that it's _small_ , but it's... warm. It's comforting. He's not afraid to look directly into it. 

He's not surprised to see a pair of glowing, yellow eyes staring right back at him.

"Red," his dream-self says, and he distantly wonders if this is what his voice would sound like if he talked in real life. 

The lioness in the fire blinks at him. 

Keith always thought it was ironic — in the real world, Keith is the one who is silent, and his magic is the one who talks for him. But here,  _right now,_ it is his magic that is mute, and Keith who has a voice. He laughs, and the sound of it carries and echoes. 

"Red," he repeats, because perhaps his magic, in his own head, is the one place he feels comfortable. He relishes in the strain of his throat. "What's up?" 

The lioness gives him a look as if saying,  _really?_ _I come all this way and you just say 'what's up'?_

"Mmm you know i'm not good with words, Red."

He senses begrudging agreement. Content. For a while, nothing more happens. He's sitting so close that the embers should be burning his skin, but they simply bounce off like warm fireflies. Red sleepily yawns, but stays awake, staring Keith down with fierce pride and something else he can't quite place. 

It's nice, until it isn't. 

Abruptly, a strong wind comes from the east and blows it all away. Red lets out a mighty roar at the disruption, and even as she begins to glow like a supernova it's already too late; the flames are out, and she disappears with the sound of a snap. Only wisps of smoke are in her place. 

The ground rumbles as more wind forces its way to Keith, pushing him down whenever he tries to get up. He's  _tired,_ suddenly. His arms feel like lead, but they're so light they can't support him anymore. His legs are liquid, but they stay firmly rooted to the ground. Dust covers his eyes, chokes him as he struggles to yell, scream, do  _anything._

 _You cannot run,_ a voice whispers through the wind.  _You cannot hide._

_You cannot suppress me forever._

_Chaos —_ that's the only way he can describe his mind. Sudden debris falls from the sky, and all Keith can do is cover his ears and shudder as the world crumbles around him. In the storm, Keith can't even summon the tiniest of sparks.  _Chaos,_ his mind repeats,  _chaos, chaos, chaos—_

And then, Keith wakes up. 

Darkness surrounds him. Sweat clings to his skin. For a brief second, he doesn't recognize where he is, and is about to  _run._ Then he sees the glow of his lanterns, his shitty second-hand furniture, and relaxes a bit, unclenching his fists. He winces at the black scorch marks all over his bed, and the large crack on his bed frame. 

Well, at least he didn't destroy the entire apartment. 

Keith shakes, and his hand hovers over his phone.  _Shiro,_ he instinctively thinks, before abruptly recoiling and throwing himself back to his messed-up bed. 

He needs to learn how to deal with this sort of thing by  _himself._ He's  _old enough_ to not need someone like his brother. And besides, what could Shiro even do? Read him a bedtime story so he can sleep peacefully? Sing him a lullaby?

 _I'm not a kid anymore,_ he tells himself sternly.  _I'm an adult and it was just a stupid dream, not a premonition. I'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay._

But haunting laughter fills his ears, words of  _you can't suppress me forever_ echoing, and as the night drags on Keith can't help but feel like he's twelve again in a new home, desperately praying for life to be kind enough to give him a proper family.

 

* * *

 

Keith decides not to go to the Lion's Den right away. 

Shiro is most likely going to find a way to get Keith to work there anyways, and he wants to spend at least one day in freedom (and he's not sure if he can face his brother and pretend to not be shaken after such a disconcerting dream). 

Besides, there are more pressing things to do than visit Shiro at work, like finding new bedding and looking to see if there are other job options to fill his empty wallet. Hey, he might have begrudingly accepted that working at the Lion's Den is inevitable (although he will try everything in his power to deny that from happening), but Keith still needs to make a living, and he doesn't want to beg his brother's friend for a high wage, or anything. 

But most of the shops with  _HELP WANTED_ signs require customer-service jobs, and Keith wonders if they'll hire someone who can't even talk to their closest and only family member. He wants to snort at the idea, but he stays silent in front of a small bookstore looking for a cashier as his scarf flutters in the wind. From the glass-paned window, Keith notes that he looks terribly ill and cold. 

He wants to snort at that too. He's never been cold ever since he discovered his magic. 

Keith keeps walking, and soon enough he finds himself at a crossroad at the end of Silver Street. Left leads to another shopping district, and Keith doesn't need to check his brother's text to know that's where the Lion's Den is. Right leads to a residential area on one side of the sidewalk, and a large forest on the other side.

Keith turns to the right. 

The sun shines as he walks, although the rays don't do much to pierce through the biting chill. Keith takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air, suddenly feeling much better; he hasn't been outside like this in a  _long_ time. Someone passes him and waves, and Keith actually nods back, which is a win in his book. 

He's admiring the houses on this street, which are admirably much nicer than the apartments near his own place, when he sees it. A little hidden path that cuts through the forest trees, marked by stones embedded into the dirt. It's expertly hidden, covered by natural bushes and branches. If it weren't the observational skills he honed over years of living on the streets, he wouldn't have seen it. But he does, and he pushes aside the barricade and walks right on without really thinking about the consequences of exploring a deep forest in a new town without telling anyone. 

The winter winds aren't as biting through the thicket of trees, and Keith finds himself loosening his scarf a bit as he weaves his way through the thick trunks. The only sound he hears are his boots crunching along the frozen ground, and the whistling of far away animals. 

Keith looks up to the bare branches and wonders if he would be able to identify all the plants and flowers if they were in bloom. He doubts it — Keith was never good at his herbology classes. The path is incredibly winded, and Keith wonders if he should turn back; he banishes the thought a second later, though, because he can  _feel_ his curiosity demand that he keep exploring. 

By the time he reaches the end of the little path, the sun is high in the sky and Keith is starting to get hungry. He ignores it, though, in favor of clearing the last of the dead shrubbery which the path led him to. 

And then he finds himself staring at a beautiful, frozen lake. 

It's wide,  _expansive,_ a flat blue that looks so peaceful Keith is a little afraid to move any further. Rocks line the edge of the pool, dark moss and brown grass climbing the sides. The world seems quiet,  _hushed,_ and even the usual sounds his own breathing sounds muted. A strange aura hangs in the air, full of magic and nature mixing together into one, intertwined being. The soil around the lake is strangely marked, upturned dirt littering the area in small piles.

The feeling of calm instantly vanishes when he realizes there's two other people already here. 

One of them has dark skin, a big-built body, and an orange headband keeping hair from his eyes. A multitude of pendants hang from his body — his wrists, ankles, neck to be specific — and along with the tattoos on his skin, it almost looks like he's wearing a thick layer of just magical charms. 

The other is skinnier, with lighter skin (but still dark compared to his own), an old army jacket hanging loosely from his waist. Wearing only a light T-shirt and jeans despite the weather, Keith can see bangles embedded with gems on his arms, sparkling with a blue that rives the color of the lake. 

They're both kneeling on the floor a few feet away to his left, using sticks to scribble  _something_ onto the ground — Keith can't tell what it is from where he stands. The two seem to be in serious discussion, whispering to the point where Keith only hears murmurs, despite how close he is. 

Even though it's the one with the headband who's facing him, the one with the jacket notices him first, momentarily straightening from his hunched position and looking over his shoulder. His eyes meet with ones that are so blue, so  _bright,_ they almost look fake. 

"Woah, hey,  _new person!_ Hi!" He says after an awkward beat, getting up to look at Keith properly. Dirt clings to his jeans in clumps. 

Keith tenses and distantly wonders if he can just run away. Pros, he gets away from the situation before it gets awkward. Cons, the town so small there's a high chance he'll run into these people again. Also, Shiro will kill him. 

Before he can make the decision, though, the other person gets up to greet him as well. 

"Yo! haven't seen you around. Are you visiting someone in Silver?" he asks. 

Keith just stares like a deer in headlights. He's not sure what to  _do_ in this situation, and he finds that he can't even bring himself to move; his body feels frozen over. 

"Um—" says the guy with the headband, clearly not sure what to do with Keith's silence. He almost laughs, because he isn't sure what to do with his own silence either. "I'm Hunk, and this is Lance. Are you lost?"

 _Hunk, Lance._ Strange, but fitting. It takes a moment to realize they're staring at him expectantly, and  _oh yeah, they asked a question._  Stiffly, Keith shakes his head. 

Another second of silence pass, and it soon becomes apparent that Keith is not going to move, nor is he going to say anything. Christ, he should have just ran from the start. 

"Well, don't mind us," the one called Lance whistles, finally turning back to his project or whatever. "You can chill, we'll leave you alone." 

 _That's my cue to leave,_ Keith thinks to himself, grateful for the opportunity.  

Then he sees the Garrison summoning circle. 

Keith freezes as soon as he does, and he's almost afraid to move again. But his eyes dart to another, and another, and he belatedly realizes _all_ the markings on the dirt are Garrsion summoning circles. Sure, they're incredibly crude and basic, but they're still  _Garrison._ And these people are the ones who drew them.  _Garrison people._

Before he even realizes it, his hands are on fire. 

It's not the pain of his burning skin (and not for the first time, Keith wonders why he had to invest in _fingerless_ gloves rather than just gloves) that brings him out of his panic, it's the startled shout of the strangers named Lance and Hunk. 

"Dude, are you alright—"

"Wait—"

This time, he doesn't hesitate to run. 

 _What the fuck? Why are there Garrison people here? Are they after me? Did they figure it out?_ His thoughts fly faster than his footsteps, barely giving him time to breathe, and soon enough the questions just turn into a constant stream of  _get away, get away, get away._

He only panics more when he begins to hear people following behind him. 

Keith internally curses as branches get in his way, old roots and uneven stones tripping him up. There's still a _burning_ , and unfortunately he's too overwhelmed to put it out, but at the very least he's thankful that even in his disoriented state of mind he's careful not to start a forest fire.  

At one point Keith needs to take a moment to  _breathe,_ and he veers a bit off the path and leans heavily on a tree, gasping for air. It takes a minute to stop dry-heaving, and another to put away the last of his flames. He stays for a bit longer, just for the sake of trying to organize his thoughts, but he knows he’s been standing still for too long when he hears new noises. _Voices._  

“Lance, I think we’re scaring him more.” It’s distant, at least, but still closer than he would like. Keith’s heart squeezes in his chest. "Maybe he had a different reason for running?"

"Hm, lets see," Lance responds sarcastically. There is obvious fear in his voice, though, and Keith shudders. "Stranger we've never seen before walks into our hideout, doesn't say a word, bursts into flames as soon as he sees our summoning circles — which, by the way my friend, are illegal. A small crime, but still illegal — and runs away. And you're telling me we should just risk it and assume he wasn't running to sell us  _off?!"_

Silence. Keith doesn't dare to breathe. 

"Okay, if you put it that way, it sounds bad," Hunk relents. The voices get closer, and Keith, rather than running again, shifts so he's covered by trees. For once he finds himself grateful for his malnourished, skinny body.

"He probably got to the lake by following the path," Lance sighs. "Let's just follow it out and see if he's around. If not we'll just have to ask Allura to look into it more for us."

 _Allura._ The name sounds familiar, but Keith can't quite place it. He shoves the thought away in favor of becoming silent and still. As the two get closer and pass him, he wonders if it's possible for his heart to burst out of his chest and reveal his location; if not, he's pretty sure the sound of his heartbeats would be enough o expose him.. But thankfully, no more outbursts happen and the chatter fades, leaving Keith alone and just plain  _confused._

So they thought Keith was going to report them to the Garrison. And Keith ran because he thought  _they_ were going to report _him_ to the Garrison. 

He shouldn't be surprised — The Garrsion was known for being relentless with keeping up with the law and punished those who weren't even their students. Hey, probably  _everyone_ has something they want to hide from them. 

But he is surprised, and Keith feels like a fool for running so quickly. 

This time, he  _does_ snort when he feels like it, the sound quiet and ugly to his own ears. Keith begins walking back to the path when he decides that he's given the other two enough time to get back and give up their search. 

When he reaches sidewalk and civilization again, Keith realizes the sky is dark and heavy with the promise of rain. He notes that the forecast never mentioned a  _storm,_ and he hopes that he can make it back home before it hits because he did  _not_ prepare an umbrella with him. 

He half expects Lance or Hunk to approach him as he goes through Silver Street again, but he nobody gives him a second glance as he rushes through the sidewalk. Grateful for the small blessing, Keith thinks it's going to be alright when makes the final turn left and sees his apartment complex. 

Then the rain hits  _hard,_ like a bucket being released, and Keith is instantly drenched. 

 _So much for trying to stay dry,_ he thinks bitterly as he unlocks his door. 

The familiar sights of his lanterns greet him, the room dark where the light doesn’t quiet reach. Keith groans and flops on his sofa, quickly shedding his jacket, not caring for the water that gets everywhere. The strain his earlier panic seems to catch up with him then, and he finds himself unable to do much but just sit until his muscles loosen up. 

 _Fuck,_ Keith thinks. He feels anger and frustration beginning to grow, but he's not sure who or what the emotions are directed at. It's probably himself and the world. It's always been both, because  _one,_ Keith is an idiot and most of his problems are his own fault, and  _two,_ the world just likes to mess with him a lot. 

He doesn't know how long he sits there, but it's long enough for his magic to instinctively work and dry him off. At one point, Keith can feel his anger slowly ebb to guilt — guilt from just...  _running,_ and not explaining to them that no, Keith was not going to report them to anyone. That Lance person had sounded so genuinely  _scared._ In retrospect, he really could have handled that better. Then again, all the things he does can be handled better in retrospect.

Keith sighs. What he needs is a  _hot shower —_ they always help him to breathe, and to  _focus._

His windows vibrate violently from the  _pitter-patter_ of the rain as Keith carefully undresses. The bathroom barely fits a toilet, sink, and stall, so Keith finds himself pressing uncomfortable against cold marble as he struggles out of his skinny jeans. 

He stares at himself through the dirty mirror as he waits for the water to warm up a bit. As always, his hair is a mess and his eyes are sunken in.  _I look like shit,_ he thinks almost repetitively. 

But despite what others might think, he's actually doing a lot better than he was a few months ago. Then, he didn't even  _have_ a mirror to look at. Now, he silently traces over old burn marks from his fights, and wonders what his skin looked like before it all. Wonders if he would still have scars, even if he didn't become an Arena player. For a brief moment, he puts himself in an alternative universe, where's he actually has his life together and isn't afraid of change. Where his magic isn't dangerous, and doesn't eat him up. 

The rising steam begins to fog the window, bringing Keith back to reality. 

 _Yeah, no way,_ he thinks as he rinses through his long hair, closing his eyes as he lets the motion overtake him. He thinks back to Hunk's friendly greeting, and Lance's bright smile (and  _especially_ the way he ignored it all and just... made things worse) and ends up accidentally hitting the shower head. The water sprays everywhere, effectively creating more work for Keith to do.  

 _I really fucked things up,_ Keith thinks sullenly.  _Shiro would be so, so disappointed._


	3. the dogwood blooming in my garden is so beautiful, I just gazed at it feeling jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is roped into the Lion's Den, and meets all the other workers. Unfortunately, he ends up recognizing the some of them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but i had so much trouble writing out this chapter... I changed things up from my draft and things are already completely different. I went with a longer chapter this time, because I like them, so I hope you guys enjoy! I feel like the pacing is a bit off, but if i obsess over it any longer i'll never publish it, so... here we are. Please enjoy, and let me know if you see any grammar/spelling mistakes because this is un-beta-ed.

Keith finally remembers who Allura is.

It happens when he finally decides to drop by the Lion's Den a day after the embarrassing incident with 'Lance' and 'Hunk,' after eating a quick lunch. He's grateful for the weather, as it gives him an excuse to bundle up in as many layers as possible to hide his face. Sure, Keith never gets cold, but that's not something strangers (or two specific strangers he may or may not have run away from) need to know.

He finds himself secretly looking for familiar faces as he walks out, determined that if they ever meet up again, he'll be the one to start a conversation. After a morning of tossing and turning, he had finally written out an apology note, and shoved it into his pocket in case he ever needed it. Now, Keith just hopes that they don't mind how wrinkled the paper actually is. 

His gloves shiver with muted energy — pushing the letter to the back of his mind, Keith finds himself... somewhat _excited_  at the idea of going to the Lion's Den.Shiro has been talking about what it's been like to work there for  _ages_ now, and every memory he's shared with Keith has been a good one. If he's going to end up working at the same place as his brother (because, let's face it, he's going to cave from Shiro's incessant pleading one of these days), he's glad its someplace that's small and safe. At least, it is according to his brother.

Following the address Shiro sent him, Keith finds himself walking past a multitude of brightly decorated windows for about five minutes after going right at the end of Silver Street. True to Shiro's word, the store front is covered in white and blue paint, like some sort of corny, futuristic spaceship but... wooden, and in the form of a house. It's pretty off from where all the other main stores are, but it's close enough so that it's not completely obscure. While he can't see anything through the thick windows, the windowsills themselves are covered all sorts of plants and charms.

It's nice, and Keith takes note of the multitude of chimes and crystals that hang from the staircase beams. Despite the pristine coloring, the building itself is a little crooked, as if squished into a compact rectangle by the bakery to the right and the hobby store to the left. A wooden signpost at the front reads _The Lion's Den: Magical Wares and Services._

Taking a few tentative steps up the rickety stairs, Keith hesitantly pushes the front door open. A bell rings above him as warm air rushes up. 

"Welcome to th— oh, hey Keith! You should have told me you were visiting!" Shiro calls from across the room, sorting through items on a huge shelf spanning the back wall.

He tries to give his best smile and nods in greeting. Looking around the place, Keith notes that despite how small the room is, the counter to the left only making the room even narrower by the entrance, it's still easy to look around. An unlit fireplace is at the far corner of the room, a multitude of drawers and stands lining the light walls. Decorative plants, stones, and charms hang around the ceilings and windowsills, curtains filtering the light to make the place seem dimmer. Floating lanterns, similar to the ones at Keith's home, drift around, casting the entire place into an unique yellow-white glow. 

There are also a few couches and chairs near the back, along with a small coffee table. Sitting there is a beautiful woman with long, white hair and strange blue markings under her eyes. She wears a deep purple shawl, dark pants, and combat boots. Multiple jewels line her arms and neck. She smiles warmly, and suddenly her name snaps into Keith's memory like a rubber band being stretched and released. 

 _Allura._ Also known as Shiro's friend who helped him during his years at the Altea Academy program. Keith vaguely recalls Shiro gushing about how talented of a magic-user she was all those years ago, when Shiro had just started the next chapter of studying despite his (literal) fresh wounds from the _accident_ , and when Keith started falling down the rabbit hole (again). 

(He wonders how Lance and Hunk know her too.  _Small world,_ he guesses.  _Or maybe just small town.)_

"Hello," she says with a small wave, "You must be Shiro's brother. He talks about you all the time — I'm Allura, co-owner of the Lion's Den. Nice to meet you."

Keith blinks, not sure how to respond. He tries to search through his memories for more information on her, but his conversations with Shiro at the time are blurry at best. 

Thankfully, Shiro comes to the rescue when the silence extends for a second too long. 

"You came in at a good time," he says, walking towards Keith. "We opened up a few hours ago. Can you start the fireplace?"

He's a little surprised, because he was sure Shiro was going to push him to start carving or something. 

Keith lets out a small sound of agreement (he's not going to complain), and makes his way over to the stacked, dry logs above the fireplace. He has to step over a multitude of pots and twist his body so that he doesn't accidentally bump into something.

He tries not to stare at Allura, or be awkward (although he's sure he's failing at that) as he approaches the logs. They're light in his hands, easy to quickly throw in after igniting them from his fingertips. He makes sure to concentrate on the control of his flames, never letting the embers grow until he's made sure they're safety nestled inside the chamber. 

It's something quick and mindless that Keith finds himself enjoying. After lighting enough wood, he tends to the fire with his gloved hands (making sure to cover up his fingers with a temporary fire-proof spell courtesy of his brother), adjusting things to make sure loose flames don't go flying around.

"it's just us two for today," Shiro says when Keith is almost finished working, starting up a conversation. "Do you want to join us for dinner?"

He frowns at that, his tense posture clearly saying  _no._ But Shiro seems to purposely look the other way when he tries to shake his head, effectively making his usual pout and crossed-arms tactic useless. 

Finally, Shiro peeks at Keith and sighs at the clear disapproval on his face.

"Okay, let me rephrase. You're coming with us to dinner, whether you like it or not. Besides, I doubt you've filled your fridge with anything yet. Might as well go out together."

Keith still pouts, resolve weakening a bit. Shiro's not really wrong in saying that his fridge is empty at the moment.

"I won't stop bothering you until you say yes," Shiro adds on. "We'll stay here until you agree."

This — This makes him falter a bit, because he knows Shiro isn't kidding. They  _will_ stay locked up in here until he gets what he wants, if so be it. Shiro latches to his crumbling willpower on like a worm, smile already forming. 

"Great! We can leave after closing up." 

Allura just chuckles behind her hand, and Keith slumps, giving up.  _Damn him,_ he thinks sullenly. What is he even supposed to do until  _dinner time?_   He still has hours until its dinnertime, and he doesn't have a job to do  here.

As if reading his mind, Allura invites him to sit on the couches. "You can browse our library and pick out any book you want," she says apologetically, as if the offer of reading can make him feel better about being roped into dinner. Judging by her smile, they both know it totally  _can._

Keith narrows his eyes and wonders if Shiro told her about his love for reading. 

When he was younger, he didn't have a chance to read many books. The orphanage only had ones that were falling apart, donated by a few sympathetic people who were probably just as poor as the organization. After running away and hitting the streets as a teen, the local library had become his new home of sorts, and since then he had found an appreciation for it.

At the mention of a library, Keith looks around and wonders if it's located in another building or something. Then, Allura gets up and pushes on a wooden panel right next to the fireplace, which rotates to reveal another side of the wall. 

Keith has seen some pretty impressive things in his life, but he still finds eyes widening. Whoever built the place must have pretty impressive magic, because designing an entire _section_ of the wall to have extra space behind it (when, really, the space shouldn't exist) is known to be an extremely difficult task. 

After getting a nod from Allura (who's knowing smile is a bit too smug for his liking), he lightly runs his fingers along the multitude of old, dusty spines. As if responding, the books vibrate and thrum as Keith's eyes them over, noting that most of the books here are titles he's never read, or even  _seen._ And Keith has read a  _lot_ of different books. 

Keith decides to pick a magical non-fiction book about dreams (even if he usually goes for the mystery/thriller genre), reminded of the one he had just a few days ago. Maybe he can discern something from the warm flames, or the terrible storm that came after. 

He gives Allura a quick nod as a thank you, and settles on a plush chair closest to the fireplace. The radiating heat from it reminds him, once again, of his dream — except this time, there is no Red, and Keith is safely inside.

Keith opens it up, and begins. The pages are yellow with old-age, but he thumbs the paper and senses some sort of magic holding the thing together. _What_ kind of magic it is specifically is something Keith can't tell, because he's never been good at anything but using physical magic, but it's still a nice feeling to sense a bit of the care that went into keeping this book alive. 

"Dreams?" Allura says at one point, briefly snapping Keith's concentration. Usually, he doesn't like it when people try to talk to him while he's reading, but he surprisingly finds himself looking up at her and giving a curt nod. "Have you had one recently?"

Again, another nod. 

"Another worker here is quite skilled in visions and interpreting them. Perhaps, if you come again, you can discuss with him."

It's not a demand. Just a suggestion, and a light one at that. _If you come again_ — as in, it's okay if he doesn't come back. It's up to him to take the offer or not. 

The thought gives him a strange feeling. Keith decides to ignore it. Allura doesn't push for more, and goes back to whatever she was doing, giving Keith plenty of space. He blinks, still a bit shocked at how short and simple and  _easy_ that conversation was. 

And suddenly he's glad that _she_ was the one with Shiro all those years ago. They both developed their own ways of coping after the accident. Keith threw himself in exercise and fighting, shutting himself off from the world and skipping most of his classes. Shiro decided to busy himself with schoolwork, burying himself in the Altea Academy program, taking on so many projects he could barely keep up. Both methods were unhealthy, but time had eventually smoothed out the rough edges. Maybe they weren't there yet, but... soon, he hoped. Soon. 

Keith snaps out of his thoughts when the fireplace crackles loudly behind him, his magic responding to his emotions. He winces, shooting an apologetic glance at Shiro and Allura. 

 _You okay?_ Shiro asks silently, giving him a look. 

Keith nods, maybe a little too quickly. Tries to settle into the couch but keeps on shifting around. It's when he keeps eyeing the cushions on the other chair when Allura speaks up again. 

"You can take the pillows if you want," she says lightly.

 _Am I that easy to read?_ Keith wonders. Well, in this case, it's not really a bad thing. Keith hesitantly puts the book down to grabs a couple of cushions, and just as he expected they're incredibly soft and fluffy. After settling back into his chair, he takes off his jacket so that only his shirt and scarf are left and uses the extra layer as a blanket. He wriggles around until he's effectively nested into the chair.

Shiro laughs and calls him a caterpillar. Keith just sticks up a finger, and in response Allura sighs fondly and tells Shiro to stop bullying him. 

It's... nice, even when the customers start to trickle in. it must not be a busy day, because there's never more than one object or item to take care of, and the charms for sale hung behind the counter stay mostly stocked. Despite the slow business, Shiro doesn't stop working, pulling up new stones to infuse with, walking around and resetting display cases, chatting up the visitors and offering sales to them. 

Allura, while she stays mostly stationary nearby Keith on her own couch, talks to the customers as well. The objects that need fixing seem to go to  her, and when she doesn't need to speak she concentrates on whatever is in her hand and taps around it, soft light spilling from her fingertips as she whispers under her breath. Every once in a while she exits her trance to write something quickly on a notepad. Whatever it is that she's doing, Keith has no idea, but he puts away his curiosity for another time. Questions bubble up from the back of his throat  _( What magic do you use? How much do you know about Shiro's past? My past? Who are Lance and Hunk to you? Am I in trouble because of that? Do you even_ know  _about that? )_ but he refuses to ask, in fear of ruining the nice atmosphere. 

For now, he focuses on reading.

Some people even try to talk to Keith, although after he gives an obligatory awkward head bow, Shiro or Allura take over for him. They all welcome him to Silver when they mention that he recently moved in, but thankfully he doesn't have to communicate much with these strangers. 

When he realizes that he's actually enjoying himself here, he smiles, just a little bit. 

Time quickly passes after that, and it isn't long until the sun begins to dip. He finds himself looking out to see the fading sunlight, the glow of orange making the dead winter grass look as lively as the plotted plants inside. 

Just as Keith is about to get lost in thought, Allura taps Keith's shoulder. 

"We're going to start closing up soon," she whispers softly. "Do you need a bookmark?"

Keith, blinking once, nods. He recalls that Shiro wanted the three of them to go out for dinner, and finds himself surprisingly okay with that. Despite only officially meeting Allura today, hanging out with her wasn't that terrible of an experience.  

He watches the two as they begin packing. The sign reading _Yes, we're_ _OPEN_ is flipped to the  _Sorry, we're CLOSED_ side, and the displays and items go through one last clean up. Shiro sweeps the floor, prosthetic moving smoothly with his other arm. Allura, as promised, first gives Keith a little plastic bookmark before organizing the register. Keith himself gets up and pushes the wall-bookcase to put his book back.

For a second, he lingers, breathing in the scent of old pages.

Then, Shiro moves and a beam of sunlight hits his face. He reluctantly pushes the wall back in place and begins dressing up, placing the borrowed pillows back where they belong. 

He notices Allura carrying a small, paper bag. There's tissue paper covering what's inside.  _A gift,_ he realizes,  _but for who?_

"It's a secret," Allura says with a wink when she sees Keith staring. 

Then, Shiro is gently pushing Keith to the front door. "Come on," Shiro urges, "We need to hurry and eat and then get home so you can rest early. Tomorrow we have early shifts."

Keith furrows his brows, heartbeat raising.  _I don't have a job here, though._

Shiro, an expert at reading Keith's face, softens at his expression. "Well, we need someone to light the fireplace, yeah?"

Keith glances over at the logs, which are now just a pile of charred wood and ashes. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the phantom heat from sitting near it for so long.   
  
And  _oh,_ he knows. Knows that this is a poor, made-up excuse to get him to come back. That sooner or later, Shiro will start giving him more tasks to do, and then he'll find himself a full-time worker here. He knows that Shiro thinks it'll be good for him, being in a nice environment like this after being at someplace like the Arena, and that he won't stop pushing him — however gently it is — until he settles. Until he rests and  _breathes_ for once. 

But there's a strange pattern here. Usually, Shiro pushes, and Keith pushes back.  _No,_ he didn't enjoy it when he had to socialize with Shiro's friends.  _No,_ he didn't enjoy it when Shiro pushed him to do a team sport in high school.  _No,_ it's not that he doesn't understand, it's just that he doesn't really  _care_ like Shiro does. 

Within the past few days, Shiro has pushed him, just like he has when they were younger, more than once. The lanterns. Going out to dinner. "Just visiting" the Lion's Den. Setting up a fire. Going out to dinner again, this time with Allura. 

Yet, he slowly finds himself pushing back less and less. Finds himself thinking that maybe,  _just maybe,_ he should be glad that Shiro is guiding him along. 

Finds himself content with just going along. Not fighting back. 

And despite his earlier conviction of staying  _away, away, away_ _(you would only hurt the store, you would only hurt_  them),he finds himself nodding at what Shiro says. 

 _Yes,_ _I'll_ _be back._

(And he desperately hopes that for once, his instincts are wrong, and that the storms in his dreams are merely passing winds that hold no significance). 

Shiro, understanding his feeble dedication (because  _of course_ Shiro gets it), smiles so brightly at Keith he wants to squint and blink.

(He doesn't)

Dinner with Allura and Shiro goes smoothly. Going back to the Balmera Diner, Keith decides to try something new and orders a Shepard's pie. Allura gets a burger for herself, and Shiro gets the same steak-and-mashed-potatoes meal. Keith rolls his eyes at the fact that Shiro has never changed his tendency to only try one thing at restaurants. 

 _You've never tried anything else on the menu, right?_ He writes out with a smirk.   
  
Shiro, as he always does when Keith brings this up, crosses his arms in indignation. "Hey. If it tastes good, why change the recipe? I _know_ that steak and mashed potatoes will never fail me."

To Keith's delight, Allura sighs in exasperation at this. 

"Even your brother thinks you should expand your horizons. I'm going to guess Keith, who just moved here, has eaten more of the menu than you have?"

Shiro splutters at that, and Keith has to bite his lip to hide his laughter. 

The rest of the night follows in a similar vein, full of banter and writing that has Keith's wrist a bit sore. But he's smiling, he's having  _fun,_ and it seems like time is going  _way_ too fast and suddenly he's being walked back to his apartment. 

Allura shakes her head when Keith tries to insist that he's fine, and she doesn't need to go  _all the way back_ with him. "I like taking walks," she says, not elaborating on if she lives far away from the two of them or not. She still has the gift bag in her hand, but he doesn't even think that it could be for  _him_ until the three of them are standing in front of Keith's crummy apartment building.

"It's not much, but I wanted to welcome you to our little town," She begins, and Keith sends Shiro an alarmed look to say  _I didn't prepare for this, I'm not ready, I don't have a gift in return, what do I do?_

(Shiro just grins and nods his head a bit.  _Just take it,_ he seems to be saying, and Keith would have stuck up his middle finger at Shiro because  _I didn't do anything to deserve this, don't you realize?_ but Allura is right there and so he swallows everything down and replaces everything with an expression of surprise and gratitude). 

When Keith accepts, he almost drops it because it's a  _lot_ heavier than he expected. His eyes widen in apology, but Allura just smiles lightly. 

God, the people in this town smile  _so much._

"Hopefully they'll make your apartment a bit more like home," she says. "When Shiro first described you to me, these were the first things I thought of. So... I thought..."

She trails off. It takes a moment for Keith to realize that Allura is getting flustered. 

"...I thought you might enjoy these."

Silence, but it isn't awkward. Keith hugs the bag, bringing it up to his chest. If he gets close enough, he thinks he can smell something fragrant, but even with his sharpened sense he finds himself unsure of what it could be.

He bows in gratitude.  _Thank you so much,_ he thinks, hoping the message gets through.

He looks up to see Allura's shining eyes under the soft moonlight, matching the gleam of Shiro's prosthetic as he flashes Keith a thumbs up.

"You're welcome," Allura says. "Anyways, I'll leave you be now. You look tired — make sure to rest so you come on time tomorrow!"

He grins at Allura's playful tone. 

"Nine-o'clock, on the dot!" Shiro calls out.

Then, with final waves and (a hug that leaves him feeling a bit strange) the two leave to their own homes for the night.

By himself on the sidewalk, Keith suddenly feels alone. 

He shakes his head at the thought, and begins going inside. He's been alone his entire  _life._ And he's going to see these people tomorrow anyways — there's no reason to miss them at all. 

(But he does). 

Keith finally opens up the housewarming gift after showering and changing into his pajamas. At this point the moon is high in the sky, thousands of starts staining the darkness around it. 

It's obvious that Allura put a lot of time into this. He wonders if Shiro helped her, noting the bright-red color of the bag. He bites his lips, and finds himself surprisingly  _excited,_ like a child.

He can't remember the last time he opened a present. 

Usually, he would rip through the gift, but this time he takes the conscious effort to be gentle. Maybe the thing inside is fragile. Anyway, he unfolds the tissue paper and sucks in a breath when he sees spindly branches and crimson flowers. 

Slowly, he takes it out of the bag, careful to grab it from the potted base. 

The name comes to his head instantly.  _Sword lilies._ Perhaps his botany classes at the Garrison weren't completely useless after all. 

It's nestled in a little, stereotypical brown pot, barely tall enough to support the blossoms. He thumbs the bright petals gently, and the cool wrinkled texture against his own, pale skin reminds him of gentle flames.

Allura had said these flowers reminded her of Keith.  _Sword lilies._ The words are a bit sour on his tongue, but he can't tell if that's a good thing or not. 

When he feels his eyes sting, he belatedly realizes that he's close to  _crying._

Instantly he puts down the plant and rubs at his eyes furiously. He's glad he didn't open it in front of anyone else because this is just plain  _embarrassing._ It's just a stupid  _gift._ From someone he barely  _knows._ Allura is just nice, and it's nothing _that_ special.

For some reason, that makes it worse, and he can't stop the shudder that goes through his body.

Keith isn't sure how long he stands like that. Quietly trying not to fall apart as he gazes at the tiny flowerpot. At one point he manages to get himself to detach from his frozen, standing position and start getting ready for bed, feeling exhausted. He's too tired to sort through his emotions, so he ends up placing the pot on the windowsill above his bed, and squishing the excess feelings that rise up when he has to look at it for longer than a second. 

 _(You're happy,_ his brain supplies.  _Very, very happy._

 _Shut up,_ he tells himself, because he doesn't want to do this right now). 

Alone, at night, Keith finds himself thinking of all the questions he didn't ask. Like, about Lance and Hunk. He groans, just thinking about how awkward it'll be if ( _when,_ he thinks, _not if, because knowing my luck it's going to happen)_ he meets them again. 

He also wonders about what kind of magic Allura has. And what the other workers at the Lion's Den are like. Thinks of all the different ways they could contribute to the shop. Shiro works with infusion charms, but there was so much  _more_ than that when he looked around.  _Who made what?_ _What kind of magic allows for so much... creation?_

Apparently, not his.

Keith tries not to get bitter while thinking of his own (useless, in his opinion) magic. He fails miserably.  

_Why would I even get hired?_

Shiro. If he didn't know Shiro, he wouldn't even stand a chance. They would probably kick him out as soon as they learned Keith had the power to burn down the entire city in one night.

 _No,_ he tells himself forcefully,  _that isn't true._ _Have more faith._  Allura gave him a gift. People who were that callous and crude didn't give gifts. And Shiro was a pretty good judge of character. He would tell Keith if there was anyone that might harm him, or think lowly of him because of his abilities. 

_But what if...?_

_No._ _I can't start thinking like that again..._

Realizing that wondering about these things aren't getting him anywhere productive, Keith closes his eyes and forces himself to sleep.  

* * *

_Again, there is fire and warmth and Red, looking at Keith knowingly._

Something has changed since last time, but it takes a while for him to figure it out. He goes through a mental checklist, starting with the endless darkness that surrounds them. Crackling flames?  _check._ Red staring at him silently?  _check._ A miraculously working voice?  _check._

The fireplace? 

Keith squints a bit, tilting his head, as if the new angle will give him answers. He huffs in frustration when nothing new pops up at him, and it's when his breath causes the flames to nearly extinguish when he notices. 

The fire is weaker.  _Smaller._

"What's wrong with me?" he mutters under his breath. His hands skim over the heat, and frowns when his calloused skin barely tingles. 

Red growls at that half-heartedly.  _Figure it out yourself._  

She sounds tired.

A distant part of him recalls the storm from last time, and shivers. He looks above, into black skies, wondering if sudden clouds will form, bringing destruction and rain and chaos. Perhaps the dying embers are a sign, a prelude to something terrible.

But there is nothing.

He suddenly gets a terrible feeing deep in his gut. The nothingness is just as wrong as the hurricane winds and thrashing thunder from before _._ _Get away,_ a primal instinct urges.  _Run, before it's too late. You still have time._

Unfortunately, he has no idea what his subconscious is telling him to run from. 

Keith turns his eyes back down, and stops breathing when faced with an almost-dead fire. 

The light is almost gone. he isn't sure why he didn't notice it sooner, but now that he has he can barely see. Red is just a wisp, flickering in and out of existence. He knows, then, that it is pointless to try and get the heat back, get  _Red_ back, but he tries anyways. Fans the flames with his useless hands. 

It's barely there anymore. 

"Red. Red, come back," he whispers. 

It is his breath that kills the last of the flames. 

And then Keith finds himself in total darkness. 

* * *

It's his alarm that breaks him from his dream, and for the first time Keith is grateful for Shiro's late-night next reminding him to wake up early. 

The sun is barely above the horizon, sending weak light across the wooden floorboards. In most situations, Keith would just go back to sleep — he faintly recalls his high school years, when he woke early every day (and he wonders  _what happened for that to change)_ — but he thinks of the disappointed look he'll get, and the absolute blackness from his dream, and decides that it's better if he just  _gets up._

Even so, it's incredibly tiring and difficult to do so. For a few moments, Keith just rests, starting blankly up at the faded ceiling, mind empty. 

Slowly, slowly, he kicks back his sheets. Rolls out of bed ungratefully. Blinks once, to suddenly find himself in the bathroom with no memory of how he got there. 

 _(this isn't normal,_ his mind says,  _this isn't normal._

 _Shut up,_ he tells himself,  _this is normal for me. Isn't that good enough?_

_..._

It really isn't, but he's not going to think about that now)

Despite getting ready as fast as he can force himself to be, he still finds himself running ten minutes past his expected departure time. Breathing into his scarf, Keith double-checks his pockets (post-its, stubby pencil, letter to Lance and Hunk, dust, and hair ties), and looks back one last time, noting that his pajamas are strewn across the floor, and his bed is unmade. 

 _Eh, whatever,_ he thinks, closing the door a bit too harshly and flinching at the  _BANG_ it makes. 

The fresh air from the outside wakes him up a bit, and by the time he's halfway to the Lion's Den, his cheeks are red from the cold and exercise. He takes a mental note to investigate the significance of darkness in the dream book he had been reading, and this time going up the stairs he doesn't hesitate to enter.

Looking back, he really should have been more cautious, because as soon as he enters someone assaults him and he is  _not ready._

"You guys are  _LATE AG—_ uh, oh wait, you're not them," someone says, abruptly cutting herself off and giving Keith a heart attack. 

He blinks wildly as he looks over the other person, who now looks sheepish. She stands defiantly, arms crossed and large glasses perched on her nose. Her short hair tapers off right at her chin, framing her face, the chestnut color a shade browner than her bright, amber eyes. She's wearing overalls and a loose long-sleeve underneath, and in his own regular jeans/t-shirt/scarf/gloves combo he feels wildly out of place.

Belatedly, he realizes there are embers sparking up his forearms from the shock. As soon as he realizes, though, they melt back into the fabric of his clothes. 

"Sorry," she continues, biting her lips. "Didn't mean to scare you. Uh, I'm Pidge, and welcome to the Lion's Den. Anything I can help you with?"

 _Pidge._  Keith wonders if it's a nickname.He also wonders where the  _heck_ Shiro and Allura are, because he has no idea what to do and he can't see them anywhere. He had assumed that they would just be here and  _damn it_ he should have texted his brother about dropping by, even if he already agreed to it the other night. 

There's a grunt and an electrical spark running down Pidge's arms _(What kind of magic—?)_ , and suddenly Keith is reminded that he's expected to respond. Communication is a thing, right.

Awkwardly, he nods once. Searches his pockets for his crummy post-its and equally crummy pencil. Pidge gives him a curious look as he quickly scribbles, but doesn't ask. 

_Do you know where Shiro or Allura is?_

Pidge scrunches her eyes as if to get a closer look, leaning over the counter to read it, and Keith wonders if she needs new glasses. 

"Oh, yeah they should be in the back. Do you want me to go get them?" 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Keith nods again. Pidge quickly jumps over the counter (Keith's heart jumps again, and he wonders how nothing is broken when she lands) and scuttles to the back. She gives Keith a  _wait-here_ sign before disappearing, and Keith finds himself alone. 

It feels strange, being the only one here. 

The feeling doesn't last for long, though, because a second later the back door reopens, and Keith wants to sob in relief when Shiro comes in, Pidge not following far behind. 

"Keith! You're here," he says, as if he doesn't believe it. Keith sighs and crosses his arms. 

 _Of course I am,_ he wants to say. 

"Shiro, you didn't tell me you had a private customer today," Pidge grumbles while going back to her seat behind the counter. 

"Keith's not my private customer," Shiro says, motioning for Keith to come in (because,  _right,_ he's still standing by the door, whoops). "He's my little brother, and he's going to help us out today."

"Oh." _You two don't look that alike, though,_ he can hear her think. "Well, nice to meet you."

Keith smiles a bit uneasily. 

"Do you mind if I ask what kind of magic you use?" Pidge asks, smiling back.

He looks to Shiro uncertainly, who gives an encouraging nod —  _you can trust her._

But then he looks over to her curious face, and notes the unfamiliar splash of freckles across her face. There's a distance in her gaze.  _That's Pidge,_ he tries to tell himself, but the thought only makes it more obvious that she's a stranger to him, the same way he's a stranger to her. 

She's a mystery, someone unknown, an enigma _,_ and he thinks  _no I can't._

He decides to answer by demonstration, snapping his fingers so that a small red-hot flame bursts to life right above his palm.  _Fire,_ he is saying, and when he feels guilt bubbling at the bottom of his stomach he tries to reassure himself by thinking,  _well, you're not_ completely  _lying._ Maybe Keith's original magic isn't fire at all, but it's what he uses the most often (even if it requires more energy) and that's not something Pidge has to know. Not now, at least.

"Oh, cool," she says genuinely when Keith extinguishes the flames. "I'm the resident curse-slash-hex master here. Let's get along, yeah?"

 _Yeah._ Getting along... not friends. Sound's like something he can do. 

"Alright, let's get you started" Shiro says, steering Keith to the fireplace. He tries to ignore Pidge's blatant stares as he gets to work, but it's hard. Especially when she begins to whisper to Shiro. 

 _"I thought we didn't use that thing?"_ He hears her say. 

 _"Shh,"_ Shiro responds quickly,  _"I'll explain later."_

He recalls that Allura knew that he liked reading, and distantly wonders just how much everyone here knows about him. Hopefully, not too much. 

_Just ignore them... block them out. Don't listen, she's not judging you. Don't worry about it._

(Her gaze never leaves him, even after he's done, after Allura comes in a few minutes later and invites him to read again, after he picks a book and settles, and Keith feels as if he's being analyzed). 

For a while, Keith lets himself focus on reading. For a while, he allows himself to relax. Opening up to a certain page, Keith absorbs the words as fast as he can.  

 _Section 33: Symbolism of Darkness,_ it reads. 

_For centuries, darkness has been thought to have a negative influence on the future. Recent studies have shown, however, that this is untrue — the following case studies reveal that rather than representing ill-will, or harm, a lack of light represents the unknown._

_If one finds recurring themes of darkness, it means that they are going to go through a change. How and where the change occurs depends on the source of the darkness. While this means darkness is not always harmful, it doesn't not mean that dreaming of darkness is always beneficial either. Change can be both a good omen and a bad omen. The following sections will focus on the most common darkness-related dream situations, and further analyze the effect it might have on the future._

Keith finds himself shuddering.  _Change._ _Unknown._ He's not sure if he wants that, but he knows his anxious thoughts won't change a thing. Premonitions have a strange way of coming true. 

(He recalls, then, that the darkness had crept up on him. He hadn't noticed it had been there, until it was too late to go back. And then, it had been his own breath, his own  _words_ that had truly, truly extinguished the flames).

With that thought, Keith closes the book, too unsettled to read any further.  _That's a can of worms i'll open... later._

Instead, Keith decides to watch Pidge from over his book. Anything, really, to clear his mind. 

When she's alone, PIdge seems to always be fiddling with some sort of strange, electrical contraption. He guesses it's a hex or a curse or whatever (he's never seen one in physical form, before casting) but from where he sits, it looks like a breadboard with wires and other unexplainable things sticking out of it. When she's  _not_ alone, she's chatting up customers and pulling out the same, circuit-like things from drawers and bookshelves behind her. He doesn't understand much of what she's saying, and it looks like the customers don't either, but she always ends her speech with what each one will do and manages to convince the poor person to buy five other hexes.

It's interesting, to say the least. Absently, he wonders what the other workers are like.

Just when he thinks he's calmed down enough to try reading again, the door opens with a  _BANG_ and Keith ends up getting his answer sooner rather than later. 

He immediately tries to hide behind his book when he sees two, very familiar faces. 

"Hey hey hey, guess who's here!" The unmistakable, unique voice of Lance calls out. From the corner of his vision he sees him with arms spread above his head, like a performer. This time, he's wearing the faded army jacket (rather than it being tied around his waist) with jeans, and a light-blue shirt underneath. Hunk follows from behind, an apologetic frown on his face, wearing jeans and a puffy, grey jacket appropriate for the season. Keith can still spot the tattoos on his skin, though, ink stains peeking out from his sleeves and collar. 

Keith reminds himself to _breathe_. 

 _You were expecting this,_ he tries to tell himself to quell the growing panic. _You were expecting this so—_ no, _no,_ okay maybe he was expecting this, but he wasn't expecting it to happen so suddenly. What are they doing here, anyways? Perhaps they're here to "ask Allura to help," as they said they would? Or maybe they're here to buy some things. If they were doing summonings, then they're magic users, and it's not completely weird to see the two magic-users in a magic shop. 

He sees Shiro stare at him, probably sensing the sudden spike of apprehension in him. 

"You guys are late," Pidge greets, oblivious to Keith's sudden crisis.  _"Again._ Do you guys even take your job _seriously?_ "

Lance lets out a snort. "Please, I'll have you know I am one-hundred-percent  _serious_ about this job. Even if we're kinda late. Always. And I still have to restock our supply of purification water. And, uh... I guess I haven't finished Maria's shell necklace either... And..."

Hunk interrupts. "Dude, you're digging yourself into a hole here." 

Lance flounders, glaring back when Pidge just gives an  _do-you-see-my-point-now?_ look.

"...But hey, it's chill, right, Shiro? Allura?" 

Shiro lets out an exasperated sigh, and Allura just rolls her eyes. Shiro's action is familiar to Keith, but the fact that he's hearing it in such a foreign environment makes him feel like squirming. Another concern that Keith has is that Pidge and Lance said  _job._ As in, those two work here. 

As in, he's going to be spending a lot of time with the two people he scared and also ran away from. 

As in, they _know_ Shiro well _._ _Fuck,_ that's probably how they know Allura too.

As in, they're good people. Probably. 

And Keith, idiot that he is, is their enemy now. Or, he should be. 

 _Oh, I should have just stayed home,_ Keith sullenly thinks.  _Why now? Why today?_

 _(Change,_ he remembers,  _darkness means change. Unknown._

He can feel it — the air shifting, his magic twisting. Things are going too fast for him to fully grasp, and desperately wishes, not for the first time, for the world to be a bit gentler when handling him. And, not for the first time, it seems like the world is ignoring his requests.)

Finally, he's noticed by Hunk. "Wait a minute, you're — you're the guy! The guy who ran away from us!"

Lance instantly snaps to Keith, who flinches. "Oh man, you're right! Uh— yo. Um..." He trails off, clearly not sure where to start. 

There is silence as they stare at Keith. Keith wonders how he must look — all warm and comfortable by the fireplace (which is bigger than it should be, but there's too much apprehension in him to quell the flames right now), a giant book in his lap. He would look innocent, but his hair is incredibly oily, and along with the faded color of his clothes he looks more like a homeless person more than anything. 

"You guys know Keith?" Allura says , confused. "How?"

"Uh, I think the more important question is how do  _you_ know Keith? And what is he doing here?" Lance squeaks. 

"Keith is my younger brother, and he just moved to Silver a few days ago. He's here to help us out," Shiro answers patiently.

"...oh," Hunk says quietly. "Thats... not what I was expecting."

Shiro raises an eyebrow. "Then what  _were_ you expecting?"

"Lance and I thought he was a Garrison member, or something. He started running away when he saw us at the Lake, so we assumed—"

"Hold up," Pidge interrupts, jumping over the counter. "First of all, lets all gather on the couches. I feel like this is going to take a while, maybe, and I want to be sitting. Second of all, start from the beginning. I'm lost."

Obeying, everyone begins moving towards the little sitting area in the back. Keith shifts, so Shiro can sit next to him. Allura and Pidge squeeze into another one, while Hunk sits on the single-chair across from Keith, Lance perched on the armrest. 

Hearing the story from Lance and Hunk is just  _embarrassing._  He feels his cheeks flush as they go into how they were summoning lesser spirits for Shiro's charms, and how they just said hi to Keith before he randomly bolted. And how they chased after him, scared that they had intimidated him (according to Hunk) and worried he would report them to the Garrison for using their circles without a license (according to Lance). 

When they're done, Shiro gives Keith a very, very disappointed look. He even does the pinched-nose thing. 

"Keith? is that true?"

He nods, jaws clenched. _The apology letter!_ his mind supplies,  _you wrote it out for this situation! You can save yourself!_

Before Shiro can launch into his usual  _I'm-sorry-for-my-mess-of-a-brother_ speech, Keith desperately looks around his pockets for the letter. It's a bit more crumpled than he would like it to be, but, with nothing better to offer, he waves around as if saying _here, here, let me speak!_  Everyone gives a confused look, except Shiro, who understands immediately. He gives Keith a smile ( _thank goodness,_ Keith thinks,  _at least he's proud of me for this)_ and grabs it from him. 

"Uh, what's that?" Pidge asks, trying to get a better look at it from where she is. 

"An apology letter," Shiro answers for Keith, "For Lance and Hunk. Here, you two, read it."

He thinks back to the message he wrote, and hopes it isn't cringey or anything.

 _Dear Lance and Hunk,_ he remembers writing. 

_Hi, my name is Keith._

_I wanted to say sorry for running away from you two the other day. I overheard you say you were scared I would report you to the Garrison. I can assure you I do not intend to report anyone to the Garrison, as if I did I would also be arrested. Actually, I ran because I thought you were the Garrison and you would recognize me and try to catch me. Sorry for the misunderstanding._

_Goodbye._

It’s short, and to the point. He had spent hours coming up with it, though. Years ago, he would have been too prideful to ever do something like this, but… well, sometimes, he has to swallow it for his own good, especially since he can't really apologize to people any other way. He wonders if his old therapist is proud of him. 

Thankfully, Lance and Hunk read over the message with serious expressions, not openly questioning the fact that Keith is communicating with them through letters. 

Lance gingerly gives the note back when they’re done.

“Dude. Apology accepted.” Hunk says kindly, and when Lance nods along Keith feels as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “We assumed some things too. Is-Is it okay if we try introducing ourselves again?"

 _They're being too forgiving!!!_ something screams.  _You were wrong! Don't trust them, they still don't like you!_

But then, he looks at the kindness in Hunk's gaze. At his outstretched arm, waiting for Keith. At Lance's easy smile, with none of the judgement or uncertainty that was there only ten minutes ago. 

_You don't deserve it. You need to prove yourself._

Keith ignores the voice and grabs onto Hunk. Nods once, to say  _sure._

"Okay," Hunk says gently. "I'll start, then. I'm Hunk, and I work at the Lion's Den as a dream mage. I'm also experienced with day-premonitions and all that stuff. Oh, and sometimes I make charms, although that's still more of Shiro's thing."

When Hunk let's go of Keith's hand, his skin suddenly feels cold. The fire behind him finally quiets, as if letting out a breath of its own. 

"I'll go next! I'm Lance, also known as the  _best_ ocean mage in the town!"

"You mean the  _only_ ocean mage," Pidge snorts, interrupting.

"Excuse you. That just means I'm all the more important.  _An-ny-ways,_ I work with healing, scrying, purifying, all that junk. Oh, and I can read auras."

Keith tries not to show his surprise at that.  _No wonder his eyes are so blue,_ he absently thinks,  _he can read auras._

"You met me yesterday, Keith, but I've never introduced my role here at the Lion's Den," Allura says, bringing Keith back. "I'm a psychic — a psychometric. to be more specific. I hope you've enjoyed your time here so far." 

Everyone looks to Pidge, who huffs. "I already did this, but _fine._ Call me Pidge. I mentioned this already, but I work with hexes and curses. Oh, and sometimes plants." 

"Aww pidgey, I haven’t seen you work with plants in a while,” Lance grins, shooting imaginary finger guns. Pidge makes a face at the nickname, but doesn’t really say anything about it.                                      

“Just because I have an affinity for it doesn’t mean I _like_ it. I'll stick with my other affinity, thank you very much. Plants are too much work.”

 _So, we have a day-_ _premonitionist,_   _an aura-reader, a psychic,_ and __a dual-specialist__.  _They all have ultra-rare abilites..._

(He swallows a heavy tongue when he thinks about his own 'ultra-rare' ability, crushes the thought of,  _I wonder what they would think if I told them that I..—)_

"Keith...?" Shiro says gently.  _Introduce yourself too,_ he's saying. 

(And he suddenly remembers that Shiro is pushing,  _always_ pushing him forward as much as he wishes he could dig his feet in and  _stop)._

Slowly, Keith snaps, and words come to life. 

Fire rises up from his fingertips, wisps of smoke trailing behind as thin flames twist and turn to create letters. He hasn't done this in a while, and his bones ache from the misuse, but his hands surprisingly stay steady in the process. 

_My name is Keith. I work best with fire manipulation._

(Not a lie, he tells himself over and over). 

Everyone's eyes are wide (except Shiro's of course), surprised at the level of control of his flames. People always are, when he does this. 

"Woah," Pidge starts breathlessly. "That's super cool" 

Keith shrugs, dispelling the flames with the action.  _You're the dual-specialist, though..._

They sit around and talk some more, and to Keith's relief it's not awkward. He thinks it's not that bad, that he can  _make it,_ until Hunk turns to him. 

"Hey," he says hesitantly, and Keith can already _feel_ the question coming. "I know Shiro says you're just gonna help around, but are you gonna work here? I mean, you don't have to, but I'm just wondering."

Again, that question. Again, that freedom of choice. It's what Shiro has been planning for since the beginning. He doesn't need to look to see the hopeful look in his brother's eyes. 

 _Please,_ he can hear him think,  _Please._

Keith wishes he had the time to think about it, but things are moving a bit too fast for him to gather his thoughts. First, he had that dream, then he came in and got accidentally yelled at by Pidge, then his book gave him unwanted information, and  _then_ Lance and Hunk came in and suddenly he needs to choose  _now._

He told himself he would resist when the moment came. There are hundreds of excuses he has, every single one of them a valid reason to say  _no._ It's not safe for them. He's not comfortable with strangers. He doesn't have any magical ability to contribute with. He can't even  _speak_ properly, damnit. 

So, when Keith finds himself nodding  _yes,_ he has no idea  _why he's agreeing._

Shiro smiles, Hunk and Lance cheer, Pidge grins, and Allura gives Keith a meaningful look.  _Happy,_ his brain says,  _they're happy for you._

Looking at their bright faces, he wonders if he made a good choice at all. 

(For once, he hopes his reckless ideas work out in the end). 

 


	4. what a terrible child compared to blooming trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I wanted to thank all the people commenting and giving this story kudos! It really motivates me to make this story better and better, so shoutout to you guys!
> 
> I'd also like to note that I changed the chapter titles to be relevant quotes from "Never Lost Word" (again, it's like the anthem of this fic lol so please check it out when you can!). 
> 
> My chapter lengths just keep getting longer and longer... oops

In his defense, Keith tries. He really, truly does. 

But looking at Lance's blue, blue eyes, full of mirth and  _pity_ _,_ he forgets to try and be nice and  _snaps._

It had started out innocently enough. After agreeing to work at the Lion's Den, Keith had thought things would be hectic and  _complicated,_  at the very least. But surprisingly, on his first day of the job, Allura and Shiro had welcomed him warmly and explained that Keith would mostly be working with private commissions.

 _"Since you're not a machine, we can't really mass produce your carvings,"_ Shiro had explained.  _"We can provide you with the wooden blocks, so for now, focus on making a few samples! Show customers what you're capable of carving. Then, we can display them and if anyone is interested we can talk out the details. I'll work with you to infuse some properties too."_

And really, that had been that, and Keith found himself with a lot more freedom than he expected. In the few days since then, he had tried to act politely to all the small talk Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Allura subjected him to in between work shifts, even if he wasn't in the mood for conversation. They try their best to get him involved in conversations too, but so far the most Keith has said was from that first night when he introduced himself. He only has a vague understanding of their personalities at this point, and could probably count all known facts about them on one hand, but he prefers it that way. He doesn't need to be anything more than acquaintances with any of them. 

(He notes, however, that Hunk enjoys cooking, Pidge has an older brother, and Lance goes to the ocean every other weekend. Allura wears gloves to avoid accidental readings on random objects, and has a pet cat. Also, they all seem to be incredibly close friends, Shiro included). 

When he isn't trying to be sociable, he finds himself carving. He has a non-official permanent residency at the couches now, and he spends most of the day sitting and getting shavings all over himself and the floor. Currently, he's trying to finish up a carving of a lotus flower. It's in the middle of trying to smooth out the petal tips when Lance groans loudly from the counter. 

"Keith" he whines, dragging out the 'e' so it's more like _'Keeeeeith.'_ While talking, Lance doesn't look up from the bowl of water in front of him. Hunk, who sits next to him, pays no mind to the disruption and focuses on a pile of charmed stones. Pidge looks up for a second before going back to her hex, Shiro sighs from behind Keith, breaking away from his infusion circle on the floor, and Allura blinks out of a trance and frowns at the picture frame in her hands.

Keith isn't sure how to feel about Lance. He's been friendly enough after the incident, but most of the time he's too loud and touchy for Keith to really be comfortable. And those are things that aren't necessarily  _bad,_ or anything, and perhaps that's why Keith feels mostly confused when dealing with Lance — because they both try their best, but they always end up missing each other a little bit. Especially now, since he has no idea why he's being called on, or what Lance is even thinking. 

When there's no verbal response (because, of _course_ there isn't, but it seems like Lance has been having a harder time than the rest getting used to the fact that  _no,_ Keith didn't talk and  _no,_ he isn't trying to be rude), Lance stares at him, and Keith struggles to keep his face from twisting into his usual  _what the fuck do you want_ look.

After a moment of awkward blank staring, Keith sighs and snaps up a response. There's a reason why he tries to avoid using magic to communicate. Too messy, too much work, not to mention its overly flashy and dangerous. But there are times, like now, when the only option he has is to use his fire. Because the alternative is to actually speak, or make a sound, and the former is an absolute no and the latter is something he only does when completely comfortable with the other person. 

And Lance is someone he just met a few days ago. 

 _"I don't understand,"_ he writes. The words are lively, and a long time ago he used to think his letters were pretty too, with the way they glow and twist. 

"Um, well," Lance starts. Even from across the room his face flickers from the light. "Your aura is kinda all over the place. Do you think you could turn it down?" 

Keith frowns at that. 

_"I don't know how to do that."_

"Just... try to repress your magic? Maybe try relaxing? I don't know, aura's work differently for everyone so..." 

He tries not to be annoyed at those words. As  _if_ he doesn't spend every second of the day trying to "repress" his magic and "relax." It's not  _his_ fault he's like this, constantly afraid that at any second, something will go wrong and up in flames. Literally. 

But Lance doesn't know that. Doesn't know how hard he works to be normal, to be  _stable._ Doesn't know how much he's sacrificed to hide what he can, how much those words make him forget that he knows Lance a bit better than the strangers who say the same words and sees  _red._

 _Breathe,_ something that sounds suspiciously like his old therapist says.  _You're assuming again. He doesn't understand that it's not that easy for you._

So, instead of snapping at Lance, Keith tilts his head with a scowl to say, _I can't._

"Just... please? I'm really getting a headache," Lance continues. "I'm not saying your aura is  _bad,_ or anything, just a bit... overwhelming, you know?"

 _I don't know,_ he thinks, because the gift of sight is something rare and Keith has only heard of it in myths until now. He's pretty sure nobody (besides actual aura-readers, obviously) has a clear idea of what it exactly  _is_ anyways. Something about representing your magic and personality? Whatever it is, it's something he has no experience in, and how he's supposed to control it is something he just doesn't  _know._

He tries to express this to Lance with a shoulder-shrug and an apologetic wince. 

 _Wrong,_ his mind says, when Lance looks visibly offended at the gestures.  _Wrong, wrong, wrong, whatever you communicated just now was_ wrong. 

"Hey, don't give me that! I'm not making it up, I swear," Lance huffs, crossing his arms. Hunk winces at the rise in volume and mutters something incoherent under his breath. 

Keith, in an attempt to backpedal, tries to say he didn't think Lance was making it up. Shakes his head. Waves his hands around. 

"Ugh, never mind," he says, exasperated. Then, quietly, "you probably think I'm just being stupid..."

Keith abruptly stand up at that, a bit offended and desperate to say he does _not_ think that at all. The motion startles Pidge again, who fumbles with her hex and hisses. He senses Allura leaning forward uncertainly, as if stuck between wanting to intervene and wanting to leave the two of them alone. 

 _"No!"_ he writes out at first, hoping the exclamation point will help. Lance sends a confused look, and Keith snaps more flames to explain himself better. It's slow, because it's hard translating thoughts into written words, but Lance patiently waits for him to finish. _"Sorry. I don't think you're being stupid. I just don't understand how I can stop my aura"_

"Like I said, just relax and suppress your magic a bit."

Keith tries not to flare up again. 

_" I can't do that"_

 "Why not?"

_"It's just really hard for me"_

"Is it... really?" Lance says slowly, obviously confused. 

Keith bristles at the tone. _"Just because it's easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me,_ _"_ he snaps, and his words are brighter now, a sign of annoyance. 

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean it like that," Lance says, frowning. "Um. Okay here, let me try helping."

Keith has no idea what that means, but Lance is already jumping over the counter and walking towards him. Shiro makes a noise of protest for Keith, but he brushes it off easily with a smile. 

When he's pushed back onto the couch, an old instinct kicks in and Keith almost knees Lance in the stomach for just touching him. He remembers last minute where he actually is, though, and manages to relax enough for Lance to grab his shoulders and start kneading. 

 _What are you doing?_ He snaps hurriedly in panic. The words appear a bit too closely to Lance, and he winces at the sudden heat. 

"Just — helping you  _chill_  with a massage _. Ugh,_ your aura is literally jumping all over the place. Are you anxious or something?"

 _I'm anxious all the time,_ he jokes to himself. His humor lasts only for a second, though, because Lance's fingers are beginning to dig deeply and it's not relaxing at all. 

And this is when he tries. Swallows the questions and complaints he wants to give to close his eyes, forces himself to unclench his jaw and loosen his muscles. After a minute of quiet breathing, he slowly opens his eyes and snaps to bring up words made up fire that read,  _"is it better now?"_

"No," Lance says monotonously. Keith looks up to see a smirk on Lance.  

For some reason, that irritates him. Snap.  _"What's so bad about my aura anyways?"_

Lance tilts his head, thinking, but never stopping his actions. "It's not  _bad_ bad. It's just really loud. And red. A really bright red that kinda takes up the entire room and chokes you while screaming...," a pause, "eh, but its not as bad as it sounds."

Pidge voices his thoughts for him, and her voice startles Keith. "Um. Hate to break it to you buddy, but that sounds _pretty_ bad."

Lance, ignoring Pidge, frowns as if realizing something. "You know, now that I think about it, you really don't see that kind of aura in fire-magic users... I would expect less screaming and more color. Or something along those lines."

"And once again i'm grateful for the fact that I don't have Sight," Hunk sighs from the counter. Keith absentmindedly agrees. 

_" Well, i'm sorry my aura is loud but I really don't think this is helping"_

"You're right," Lance agrees a bit too quickly for Keith's liking, "It's not working at all. How about a nullification charm? If you can get your magic levels lowered just a bit I could try tuning it out." 

Keith doesn't mention that he already has plenty of nullification charms on him. One won't do anything more, he  _knows,_ but instead of voicing this he shrugs as if to say,  _I don't have one on me._

"Ah, I think Hunk has one. Hunk?"

Hunk picks up a stone from his pile — this time, it's a deep blue — and to Keith's surprise,  _throws it_ at him. 

Looking back, he can't really explain why he did what he did then. It's hard to put in words, at least. Years of fending for himself and fighting battles has given him reflexes that flare up without a second thought. Maybe that's why when the finds an object suddenly flying towards him, despite consciously  _knowing_ it's nothing too harmful, his first response is to  _panic._

For a brief second, Keith recalls a memory from the Arena. It was just another one of the mindless battles where Keith didn't have to worry too much about losing. He couldn't deny that he was strong, especially in comparison to his opponent, a young magic-user who could barely summon a small stone. In that moment, Keith had felt a little bad, honestly. He planned to end the battle quicker than he usually did — no need to drag it on any longer than he had to. 

He knows now not to let his guard down. Knows not to judge based on appearances, because people, especially at the Arena, always hide their trump cards behind fake personalities. One slip-up was all it took for sapphire-like pellets to appear from thin air (except it's not really thin air, it's intricately hidden summoning scripts that were placed without Keith noticing) and pierce him. 

Keith somehow managed to win despite it, but at what cost? He left the battlefield with scars that never healed properly, only given a day to recover from what was  _basically_ bullet wounds. Maybe, if he were stronger,  _smarter,_ he could find a way to gain favor with the ringmaster and try and get more rest, or at least some  _medicine,_ but the basic fear of losing what he had worked so hard to achieve stopped him. 

The color of the stone as it flies towards him is the same color, Keith notes with a calm detachment. He had been in the ring, and the other person had  _sneered,_ a bit similar to how Lance had smirked at him earlier, and then it had all resulted in—

_(pain, pain, pain)_

Keith can't breathe. 

Before he can tell his body just to  _catch_ it, his hands come up to swat it away. It hits his skin with a resounding  _slap,_ and for that second of contact Keith feels its magic try to take hold of him and fail, spreading an electric-like jolt up his arm. 

For a moment, time seems to stand to still. He can see everything — the way Hunk's eyes widen, most likely regretting having thrown it rather than just giving it to him. Allura finally making a decision, walking forward with an outstretched hand. Shiro, completely abandoning his charm, Lance's name at the tip of his tongue. Pidge watching it all unfold with bright eyes, barely managing to duck as it flies over her head. Lance, with an expression full of fear but also  _joy_ as he screams and covers his head with his hands. 

For a moment, time is still, and Keith watches as the stone flies off trajectory right into a hanging pot overhead. 

He hears it before he sees it. A loud  _clap_ as the ceramic crumbles and caves from the pressure. Then, the dirt falls forward with nothing to hold it back, creating a dust cloud as the leaves shake while falling to the ground.  

It doesn't stop there, though. To his horror, the swinging, now-broken pot detaches from the hook of the ceiling and crashes into a glass vase on the counter, spreading shattered glass everywhere. That, in turn, spills water all over the counter which drips down to the floor and wets the papers into soggy mush. It even spreads to one of Pidge's hexes, which sparks wildly before shooting itself off, hits the wall with a resounding  _crack,_ and finally bouncing into the fireplace. The flames flare up in response, and for a second Keith thinks the entire place is going to burn down, but before anything can catch on fire it ends up receding. 

Everything is very, very quiet. Keith doesn't dare to make a breathe, or to even move. 

Then time goes back to normal, and Keith is found suddenly staring at the huge mess on the floor. 

 _Oh my god,_ he thinks, detached.  _I'm going to get fired._

"Oh my god," Hunk says a second later, echoing his thoughts. 

"Keith..." Shiro says in a low voice, and Keith  _hates_ that he's being talked to like a wild animal, because Shiro is the only one who can truly sense the fear rumbling within him. 

It's Lance who breaks the silence first. Lance, who, after taking a long look at Keith, bursts out  _laughing._ As if this entire horrible situation is  _funny._ It takes over his entire body, and he clutches his stomach, shaking with his mouth wide open. 

"Oh —  _oh,_ Keith, my man, that was _crazy_ —  _ah, your face—"_

Lance tries to touch Keith again.

Blue eyes. Mirth.  _Pity._ The fact that he's being laughed at. The broken store. 

 _Don't,_ the last rational part of him thinks. 

But the touch pushes him over the edge, and before he can think he shoves Lance away so forcefully from over the couch that he stumbles back into the hidden bookshelf and swings dangerously close to the fireplace. The sleeves on Lance's shoulders smoke from the sudden heat from Keith's palms, his subconscious barely restraining the force of the impact in a last-ditch effort to keep himself from completely breaking Lance. 

Lance stares at him with terrified eyes.  _Hurt_ eyes. 

He tries not to show how much that stings. 

"Keith," Shiro says again, a warning. As if the sound of his name can calm him down. 

(It can't, not really. Not when he's been called by his stage name for the past year and his true name has become mere background noise on the stage, something lost underneath the mask as the bright, camera lights pierced his vision, the stench of being in a sweaty underground making him see red, red,  _red)_

He stays still for only a second. Then, he's walking,  _moving,_ and before anyone can stop him he stiffly walks out, into the midday wind. 

Despite himself, Keith shivers. Looks down at his hands and thinks,  _fuck._ _Fuck, that was close._

He had almost  _burned_ Lance there. Any more, and he could have even killed him. Any more, and the entire  _store_ might have exploded from the force of a deeper magic. 

It still burns — the almost force of letting go. 

Not for the first time in his life, Keith is struck by the thought that he truly, truly was cursed from the moment he was born. Not in the terms of having a shitty childhood, which he likes to think is a separate issue, but in terms of bringing danger to everyone around him. Perhaps that was the reason why his parents left him. Because they  _knew._ Knew that when he turned thirteen, the small sparks of magic he had managed to create would evolve into hot, dense balls of gas, capable of destruction and  _death._ Knew that what ran through his veins was the magic of unborn stars, festering with enough energy to create their own galaxies. 

Knew that there was nothing he could do about it but live a life of repression, to force him to condense his suns into flames, forever forming and reforming in the chamber of his heart as his body begged to be free.

 _He's lucky,_ Keith thinks,  _Lance is lucky._

Or perhaps he's the lucky one, because he managed to meet the one person who was stronger than him all those years ago. And it's because of that person and her magic that it only takes it only takes forty-two of the strongest nullification charms for Keith to compress his stars, and seven more to keep the flames mostly inside, his body swelled to bursting with the heat. Sometimes he thinks he's on the verge of going supernova but somehow, _somehow,_ he always snaps back before any damage can be done. 

 _Very, very,_ _lucky,_ he repeats, but while looking up at the sky Keith knows that it's not luck at all. Because the one thing stronger than his own magic is his own fear, and  _that_ is what truly keeps everyone alive. 

* * *

When Keith wakes up the next day, he doesn’t remember his dreams at all. He gets the vague sense of something _wrong,_ though, and he wonders where the comforting fire went, if Red was there again. Most likely not, since those things left Keith in a good mood, not a nervous one.  
  
But he brushes away the anxious feeling, at least for now, because trying to remember won’t do anything and he has bigger problems than a maybe-nightmare to worry about.

 _The Lion's Den._ Keith groans, just thinking about it. He’s only worked there for like, three days now and he’s already ruined everything. He even kinda-burned Lance. This is the exact reason why he was so adamant about  _not_ working there in the first place. 

Something in him twists with agony at the thought of being fired, though. Now that he's calmed down after the initial scare of almost calling upon his real magic, which is something that's happened often enough for Keith to feel (somewhat) better after a night a sleep, the very real threat of losing his job seems to loom over him. 

The answer to why he cares so much comes after a minute of thinking;  _It felt like home._ For the few days he had been there with the rest, it felt amazingly warm and comforting.  _Perhaps,_ he thinks,  _years of living with cold, empty training rooms at the Arena have made me desperate for something like this._

(Keith doesn't like how quickly he's gotten attached). 

Either way, he should… apologize to everyone, especially Lance. It's probably the best way to ensure that he doesn't get fired.  _Damn it,_ Keith isn’t sure if he can sit through having to write another awkward letter without sounding snappish or repetitive.

But this time, it’s not like it was _his_ fault entirely. The way Lance had talked to him, had looked down on him and  _laughed_ was uncalled for, and Keith really doesn’t want to deal with that ever again.

 _That doesn’t mean you can just run away from your own mess like a child,_ he hears a voice at the back of his head say, suspiciously like Shiro’s. And he just _groans,_ flopping back to his bed, because he knows it’s true.

So Keith settles at his desk and grabs the nearest ballpoint pen, taking out a stash of paper he uses just for this purpose.

_Dear Lance (and everyone),_

He stops, already at a loss. Great.

 _First of all, I’m sorry for burning you, I guess._

No, no, the last part makes it sound like he’s not sorry at all. He erases it, and taps his fingers together in thought.

_First of all, I’m sorry for burning you and also completely trashing the store and ruining your lives. I really am._

He sounds desperate, now. And Keith isn’t _that_ sorry.

_First of all, I’m sorry for my actions._

Alright, the simpler the better. He keeps going like this, until his desk has an annoying amount of crumbled papers. But the final product is done, 

His morning routine is never long — a developed habit of missing breakfast and living in various homes, all with different schedules — and soon enough Keith is slinging his scarf around his neck and heading out.  

People seem to recognize him on the streets now, probably as _the guy who’s really grumpy,_ or _the guy who’s always wearing a scarf._ The thought of it makes him uncomfortable, so when people eagerly wave at him or say “good morning,” Keith finds himself sending these people a strained smile and what he hopes is an amiable expression before walking even faster.

The most surprising thing, though, is that Keith actually recognizes a few people as customers from yesterday. The woman with the dog is the one who bought a two-piece set of ruby bracelets. The one inside the little café is the guy who got a bunch of little herb-pouches and incense sticks.

 _The magic of living in a small town,_ Keith muses. He hopes it doesn’t become a regular thing — dealing with the others at the Lion’s Den is enough stress as it is. He doesn't need strangers in the mix. 

He arrives and is met with the sight of Shiro waiting for him outside. 

“Morning, Keith,” he says once Keith is close enough to hear.

Keith nods, which is his own way of saying 'good morning' back.

For a few minutes, they just stand in silence. Shiro is leaning on the old railings of the steps, and Keith thinks its a miracle that it's still intact. He looks up to the sky, and Keith knows his brother is thinking about their parents, and how  _they_ would handle the situation.  

He's waiting, Keith realizes. Waiting for Keith to begin. 

He shuffles his feet, not sure where to start. There's a lot to be sorry for. Not only for hurting Lance, trashing the store, and leaving without a word, but also for worrying his brother. Keith knows this, but his thoughts cut short when he tries to think about how to express his guilt. 

The letter was mostly addressed to Lance, so he really can't just give it to Shiro. Not to mention Keith feels a bit weird writing letters to his brother — his brother, who he used to talk to, or at least hum different tones with. Maybe Shiro is waiting for Keith's words, physical ones, but he finally summons his flames when, as always, his throat seems to lock up. 

 _I'm sorry,_ he begins as honestly as he can,  _and p_ _lease don't fire me._

Keith closes his eyes and waits too. Waits for the inevitable  _i'm sorry,_ _you're too dangerous to have around. I'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry,_ but it never comes. Shiro clicks his tongue, which Keith knows means he wants his attention, and lets out a tired sigh that reminds Keith of how their father used to do the exact same thing. 

Shiro's next words take him be surprise. 

"Keith, nobody wants to fire you. They just want an apology, and maybe an explanation if you're feeling up to it."

He licks his lips to say,  _oh._ Takes a second to process it. Then,  _why?_

Shiro's face softens at that. "Because everyone here cares about you. I'm not the only one who was worried yesterday... I told everyone it'd be better to leave you alone last night, but they all wanted to go visit you. To make sure you were feeling alright."

 _I broke their things, though,_ Keith insists,  _I could have hurt Lance really badly_

"But you didn't."

Keith glares at Shiro, because he is the only one who (somewhat) knows of Keith's true abilities, knows just how much  _damage_ he can do. 

Shiro continues softly. "Your magic isn't as evil as you think it is, Keith. You recognized that they're people you care about, and so your magic would never really hurt them."

 _No,_ he thinks, but at the same time a part of him hopes  _yes._

(He wishes Shiro's confidence in his magic would make things true, Keith knows that it can hurt anything and any _one._ He's had experience)

 _I've only known them for less than a week,_ he says instead.

"But _they're good people._ I know you know it. You wouldn't have joined the Lion's Den if they weren't. You wouldn't be scared of getting fired either," Shiro says firmly. 

Keith finally looks away from his brother's gaze. _This is getting to be t_ _oo much,_ he thinks, before saying _I don't want to talk about this anymore_

Shiro sighs again. "That's okay. I respect that. Just— remember it's not a bad thing to want to be around people, okay? You deserve it."

 _I said I DONT want to talk about it,_ he huffs out, ignoring how Shiro's words make him feel both warm and cold inside.  

His brother chuckles at that. "Okay, okay."

They stand in silence again. It's a familiar thing, being with his brother without any sound, simply letting the background noise of the wind and the faraway main street wash over them. 

"The real reason why I was out here waiting for you," Shiro begins suddenly, "was to ask if you wanted to go with Hunk to gather some herbs. We had more customers than planned yesterday, and need to restock on some things. I gave the list to Hunk — he left a few minutes ago.”

Keith gives a look that says,  _do I have too?_

Shiro rolls his eyes. "Do you want to go inside and work with Lance instead?"

Keith freezes. _Oh_ , _no, no, i'm not ready at all,_ he thinks. Shiro, as if reading his mind, smirks.

"That's what I thought. He should be waiting for you at the forest to the left of Silver Street."

Keith sticks out his tongue in retaliation, but begins walking anyways. Maybe it's rude to just leave Shiro without saying thank you or goodbye, but he knows Shiro can read him like a book anyways. 

Oh, the perks of having a natural empath for a brother. 

The forest Shiro wants them to go to is the same one where he found the lake, and consequently found Hunk and Lance, but Keith tries not to let the experience taint his view of the place. It doesn’t take long for him to reach it from the Lion’s Den. He never had the chance to fully appreciate it, but as he sees the mass of trees get clearer as he walks closer, Keith wonders how he never noticed just how _serene_ it looks, even with all the dead trees. 

Speaking of dead trees, Keith suddenly wonders how the heck they're going to gather anything in the middle of winter. 

 _Too late to turn back now, though,_ he thinks grimly upon seeing Hunk. His looming figure stands out against the forest background, even if his outfit consists of similar colors. Keith notes that the other is wearing more traditional clothes suited for magic-users, with a big trimmed pointed hat and garbs of yellow-brown spotted with inscriptions and charms. He waves to Keith, expression bright, but there's worry in his eyes that has Keith feeling strangely even more guilty. 

Well. Keith had been so eager to _not_ see Lance or the damage to the store, that he hadn’t realized he might be awkward with Hunk, an acquaintance he barely knows.

“Good morning, Keith!” Hunk says brightly in greeting, before he can run away. Keith just nods in return. “Thanks for helping me out. I usually do this job alone since everyone is busy, but now that you're here, I don't have too!"

Keith smiles lightly at that, feeling a bit better to be of  _some_ help. 

Hunk motions for Keith to follow, holding up a branch to reveal a hidden path different from the one Keith ran through a few days ago. "I doubt that you've come here since last time, but this place is called the Olkari Forest. There's a lot of magical stuff if you go deep enough. Pidge keeps a section of it alive with her magic during the wintering months, so that's where we'll be going today. Um, if you ever want to explore on your own time, though, I'll be happy to show you some places another day."

He nods at that, not sure what else to say. The fact that Pidge's magic is strong enough to last for months is impressive, but he doesn't comment on that either. They stay in silence as they walk, and unlike the one with Shiro from earlier, it's just a bit...  _awkward._

It’s obvious that Hunk is nervous — he keeps fiddling with his charms, and looking behind them even though he’s been told that “there’s nothing dangerous in here, really, I’m just looking to make sure we’re going to the right place.” He constantly opens his mouth, as if about to say something, then snaps it shut.

So, before he can overthink it, Keith tugs lightly on Hunk’s shirt and politely points to one of his charms.

 _What is that for?_ He tries to express. 

Thankfully, Hunk seems to understand, despite the lack of, well, _words._ “This is my protection charm,” he starts quietly, thumbing over the dark stone that sits on a gold chain, twine twisted over it to keep in place. It’s incredibly well made, and now that Keith has the opportunity to look at it closely, he notices the twine twisting to make patterns that amplify the stone’s energy. _A miniature summoning circle,_ he muses,  _trademark Shiro craftsmanship._

"Shiro infused Peace into it for me," Hunk continues, affirming Keith's suspicions. "Your brother is super talented at summonings. La-ance and I are so terrible at it that we have to combine our magic to use the Garrison circles, but he asks us to gather things for him anyways." Hunk stumbles on Lance’s name, as if mentioning it will set Keith off or something, but he doesn’t react. Tries not to show how guilty and sorry he is about hurting him, or that he's still kinda angry at him for laughing. 

It's surprisingly easy to forget in that moment, when Hunk is talking. His voice is soothing. 

 _"You're really talented too,"_ Keith snaps, feeling surprisingly chatty.  _"You have a psychic ability, right?"_

"Mm," Hunk hums in agreement, "but it's a bit more annoying than Allura's. I still have trouble controlling when I get visions, and most of the time it's really hard to interpret. But still! It's cool." He smiles at the last few words, clear warmth in his tone. 

Keith's heart pangs at the  _warmth_ in Hunk's voice. A part of him wonders, just for a second, what it would be like to love his own magic like that, but as soon as the thought forms Keith brushes it away.  _Never, never, never..._

Instead of thinking about it any longer, Keith changes the conversation topic to Hunk's outfit. While traditional magical robes aren't unusual, they're usually reserved for special events, and he's never seen anyone at the Lion's Den wear anything but casual clothes.  _It looks nice though,_ he thinks, watching the way the fabric moves and shows Hunk's tattoos in all the right places. He wonders what his own costume would look like if he owned something like that. 

(Technically, his costume for the Arena is based off of ancient magic-user fighting robes, but he's pretty sure that doesn't count) 

"Oh!" Hunk says, and while he looks down his hat shifts forward and covers his eyes for a second. "Today's a holiday back at my hometown. Thought it would be appropriate to wear this to celebrate."

Keith tilts his head.  _What kind of holiday?_

Hunk rubs his chin. "Um, well, it's like our version of new years? Winters are  _brutal_ from where i'm from, so people marked the halfway point through the season as a really big accomplishment — they said if you made it to today, you'd survive the rest of it. Obviously, since we have like,  _heaters_  and houses now,no one actually dies, but it's more tradition than anything."

His heart pangs at that too.  _Culture._  He wonders what that's like; to know where you're from. To  _celebrate_ where you're from. He wishes he knew, at the very least, where he was born. 

"It's also  _super_ comfortable. Not to mention it kinda fits the aesthetic of the shop, don't you think? I've always wanted to work at a magical store when I was younger, and so did Lance... when I heard the Lion's Den would be opening up here I was really happy." his voice goes soft at the end. Hesitates. "I know Lance might have... pushed you a bit too hard yesterday. I just wanted to say that he means well, even if it doesn't seem like it. So please forgive him. don't know how much you value my word, but I can say confidently that he's a great friend who really cares for the people around him." 

Keith blinks, not sure how to respond at that. His bubbling apology clashes with his pride, and Keith finds himself having a hard time swallowing while Hunk is talking so  _earnestly_ _—_ it makes him feel a little sick. Makes him feel tired too, for some reason. 

 _Would Shiro talk about you like that?_ something whispers. 

(He hates how he hesitates on the  _of course he would, he loves you._ Hates that a part of him still doesn't believe it)

They continue to walk in silence for a few minutes, after that. Keith takes this time to soak in the sight before him. They’re walking on a little, dirt path, barely seen through thick roots that seem to overlap each other. Spindly trunks lead up to the sky, the sunlight getting smaller and smaller as the overhanging branches get denser and denser. Small animals scurry around in Keith’s periphery vision, scavenging for food along the semi-frozen ground. 

It’s very peaceful, and Hunk’s presence seems to make it even more so. 

“We’re here,” Hunk murmurs after a few minutes, and Keith has to rub his eyes to make sure he's seeing things correctly. 

It looks like an image out of a picture book, the way the dead soil suddenly gives way to green grass and vines. Small bushes dot the small area, consisting of long, thin leaves that Keith recognizes as the plant he destroyed yesterday. A warm breeze brushes past his skin when he gets close, and Keith stretches his hand out, expecting it to be met with resistance. 

His fingers dip easily into the biome, and Keith pulls his hand back so abruptly he accidentally smacks Hunk. 

Hunk laughs easily when Keith frantically apologizes. "It's really amazing, right? Pidge is crazy. Kinda makes me wish I had a double affinity like her."

Hunk steps through and gently guides Keith along. It feels weird to suddenly find himself in spring weather, but Hunk doesn't seem to be affected and takes out some scissors from his bag. He hands one to Keith, and gets to work himself.

“We don’t need that much, since it’s better to just have fresh sage to use, but maybe about two pouches for each of us would work? We can always come back for more anyways.”

Time seems to pass slowly. Not in a bad way, or anything, but in a way that makes digging through various plants and hearing Hunk talk about this and that a fun experience. About an hour later, their bags are a couple ounces heavier, but Keith can’t wipe the small smile he has on his face.

“We have just one more thing to do,” Hunk says, after putting away the scissors for good. The sun overhead is blazing, the sign of noontime. “It’s not on the list Pidge and Shiro made, but I want to get some fluorite 'cause last time I checked we're running low. There should be a reservoir nearby, so just follow me, okay?"

As Hunk promised, it's not far away at all. Keith, despite himself, shivers when they walk back into the winter air. They walk for a few minutes more, and Hunk leads him to a small opening, where the trees fade and the soft ground turns to hard rock. At the center of the tiny clearing their in is a pit, deep jagged stones indiscernable in the shadows of the overhanging branches.

Hunk kneels down, taking another tool out of his bag, and Keith follows suit. 

“Oh, Keith," Hunk says, suddenly, "you have fire magic, right? Is it possible for you to light up the place a bit? I can’t really see what I’m harvesting here, and I don’t want to cut into unnecessary stuff if I don’t have to.”

Keith hesitates. They’re in a forest, after all, and everything here is highly flammable.

 _But you have your restrictions just for this reason,_ he tries to remind himself. He fiddles with his own charm, a simple jetstone necklace — it has none of the intricate designs Hunk has on his own, a testament to how old it is (Shiro only mastered attaching summoning stones to his charms two years ago), but still does its job effectively. He also has _her_ magicto act as a lid to the more dangerous sides of his magic, but Keith still feels his old fear of burning things up by accident creep up behind him.

He does his best to push that fear away though, and licks his lips before summoning a small flame. 

The fire doesn’t touch Keith’s skin — his lack of immunity to the element is just another sign that fire isn't his true magic, but he hopes Hunk is too busy doing his work to notice the way Keith, too, carefully navigates around the flames. It hovers, casting shadows not only on the trunks around him, but also on the palm of his hand as it pulsates with life. 

Hunk begins chipping away, and Keith follows his actions, trying his best to illuminate them.

They fall into silence, and this time it's nice and warm and nothing like the one from earlier. Perhaps that's why Hunk asks his next question — because they're comfortable, and Keith is in a good mood. 

“Don’t want to sound insensitive here," Hunk starts quietly, as if unsure of himself, "but, um... is there a specific reason why you don’t talk…?”

Keith twitches at the question, and Hunk catches it immediately. 

“You— you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to! I was just wondering...”

He picks up on the real question: _Is it that you physically can’t talk, or that you choose not to?_

Keith, too, wonders what the answer to that question is. Before the accident, the answer had been the latter. His entire childhood was filled with silence. But after being adopted, and the more time he spent with the Shiroganes the more he started to use his voice, however quietly. For a while, Keith thought his life would get better. He finally had a warm house and family, what more could he ask for?

Keith should have known it would come at a price. 

It happened while they were all going out to eat at Shiro's favorite restaurant for his birthday. A car crash that killed his parents on impact, and cost Shiro is right arm. There was apparently a large time-gap in between the actual crash and getting to the hospital, but even to this day the most he can remember from that moment is the feeling of something piercing his throat, and struggling to breathe as he tried to scream. 

After an emergency surgery, the doctors promised that he  _should_ be able to speak, despite the damage done to his vocal chords. That if he was lucky, his voice would be back to normal, and the worst case scenario would be a broken, scratchy voice. 

But like a fire gone out, Keith never tested any of the doctors theories. He stayed silent, is  _still_ silent, with nothing to show for the years of hard work the Shirogane's had done, except for the old ashes that rise from back of his throat, thick and heavy whenever he opens his mouth. 

He wonders, then, if his throat can shrivel up from misuse. If the doctors words are still true, years after the event. If the scar that runs across his neck will open up and bleed again if he even tries to form words.

Keith doesn't know how to express all of that though,  _can't_  explain that maybe the reason why he's never tried is because he's afraid of the truth,so he answers as simply as he can. Slowly, as to not disturb Hunk’s work, he shifts the fire so that it forms words. 

_“It’s just that I’d rather not.”_

Hunk's eyes flicker upward, and he pauses in his work momentarily.

“Okay. That’s cool. Thank you for telling me,” Hunk says earnestly.

Keith closes his eyes, and listens, but Hunk stays silent as well. It doesn't take long for him to finish and pocket the remains after that, standing up to stretch with a groan. 

It’s clear that Hunk is tired; they’ve been walking and gathering for hours now, and the chilly wind, coupled with the limited sunlight, doesn’t help ease the exhaustion. Keith, too, would be tired, if he weren’t so used to physically straining himself. Hunk motions for Keith to follow again, sluggishly this time, lightly humming as they begin to make their way into the forest again. 

When Hunk shivers for the third time, Keith snaps before thinking.

“Oh,” Hunk says distractedly and Keith draws in close. The flames flicker upwards, sending warmth within a small radius. “Thanks, man. I don't understand how you're not cold."

Keith smiles.  _I can't get cold._

“Dude, you're lucky. I, personally, can’t _wait_ for spring."

Keith can. It means he’ll lose his excuse for wearing a scarf everywhere to cover his neck. But he keeps that thought to himself, and merely makes the fire brighter.

Walking alongside Hunk, Keith can’t deny that _this_ , right now, is something he’s enjoying. He makes a mental note to thank Shiro later — not only for the opportunity to gather himself before having to awkwardly face Lance and everyone else, but also for letting him have some relaxation time with Hunk.

 _Lance may be annoying, but at the very least he has good friends with him._

Finally, when Keith feels as if they’ve gotten lost, Hunk pushes aside a certain branch and then they’re out on the sidewalk again, the fire in his hands blowing out from the surprise. The warm smell of restaurant food nearby makes Keith realize how hungry he is; they skipped _lunch,_ after all.

Hunk seems to be having similar thoughts. “Oh, man, I am _so_ hungry. Do you think Shiro would mind if I went home and cooked something real quick?” He answers himself without waiting for Keith. “Ah, he probably would… we’ve been gone for too long now. Also, Lance would steal all my food.”

Keith makes a face at the mention of Lance — Hunk just laughs.

“Come on, like I said, he’s not _that_ bad. I’ve known him since we were kids!”

 _“I sense a bit of bias here,”_ Keith writes out teasingly.

“You got me there. But I can’t help it. I want you two to really get along…” Hunk expression turns serious. “I want to avoid as much negative energy between everyone as I can. I mean, we’re a new family now, right? I don’t want it to be ruined. It’s especially important for Lance, because he was in a pretty bad workplace environment before and — and that's _his_ story to tell, so I won't say anymore, but yeah. Uh, sorry, sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

_“It’s okay. I understand,"_ he says, but the word  _family_ has Keith reeling in a hundred other directions. 

A bit of pressure from Hunk’s shoulder alleviates, oblivious to Keith's two-second mental breakdown. “Thanks for coming along with me, Keith. Really appreciate it. 

Keith nods jerkily, and if Hunk think's he's being too stiff for the rest of the walk home he doesn't mention it. They finally arrive _way_ sooner than expected,, the sight of white and blue greeting them almost hauntingly. Keith finds himself fidgeting at the front door, suddenly nervous.

_Deep breaths. You’ve done this once, you can do it again._

With that, he pushes open the door, bracing for… whatever might be on the other side. 

 _It's cleaned up._ That's the first thing he notices. No sign of dirt, broken pottery, or water spills anywhere. The fireplace is empty and cold, ashes from the previous night not yet gone. Then he notices a charred dent in the wall  _(from Pidge's hex,_ he remembers), which is barely covered by some sort of tape, and it looks so comical he almost wants to laugh. Pidge is talking to Allura at the back of the room, Shiro is at the counter organizing, and Lance is lying on the couches. 

"We're back!" Hunk calls out. 

Before anyone else can even  _say_ hello, Lance bolts up as if shocked by Hunk's voice and scrambles towards them so quickly that a few things go flying. 

 _"Lance!"_ Shiro calls out disapprovingly, but Lance pays him no mind and skids to an abrupt stop so he's meeting face to face with a very startled Keith. It must show on his face, because he shoots him a reassuring (but strained) smile a second later.

“S-sorry! I was waiting for you. Do you. Do you mind if we — outside?” Lance's huffs, voice raised ridiculously high on the last word. He hears Pidge snort from behind. 

("You suck at this," he thinks he hears her say, to which Lance discretely mouths  _"Shut up Pidge i'm doing my best here")_

A bit overwhelmed, Keith finds himself nodding _yes,_ even if he doesn’t really feel ready for whatever talk they’re going to have.

Hunk scurries inside, mouthing _good luck,_ but to who it’s directed at Keith isn’t sure. Maybe to the both of them. Lance shoots a thumbs up, and Keith just nods. 

He's reminded of his morning talk with Shiro, which seems like a long time ago now (he's been having a _lot_ of conversations today). But this time, it is Keith who is doing the waiting. For what he's waiting for, he's not sure. For Lance to start? For the opportunity to present his letter? Would it be better for the former to happen first, or the latter? 

Either way, Lance looks at the ground with an expression that reads,  _I'm collecting my thoughts,_ so Keith does what he does best and stays quiet. 

“I want to begin” Lance finally says after a moment, and his voice starts out so small that Keith thinks it could be carried away by the wind, "by apologizing. I was...  _wrong,_ to laugh at you then. And I was... wrong... to touch you like that. You were obviously uncomfortable, and I didn't realize it." 

Keith blinks at that, surprised. Yes, he wanted an apology, but he didn't expect it to be so... honest? He feels a bit ashamed for assuming that Lance would be stingy about it. 

 _I'm sorry too,  _he snaps.  _I hurt you yesterday. And I bothered you with my aura._

Lance's mouth forms a little 'o', as if Keith's words are a shock to him. "W— okay, the first thing is no problem. I'm a  _master_ at healing magic, so don't worry about it. The second thing is something that... is still kinda a problem for me, but it's not your fault. I'll deal with it myself, so again, don't  _worry about it."_

Keith does not like the way this is going; he recognizes self-deprecating behavior easily in others. And Lance is talking as if Keith shouldn't do  _anything_ ,which honestly has him a bit pissed at Lance for assuming such things. Keith is no saint, but he knows when he messes up. 

So he looks as fiercely as he can at Lance and spells,  _"_ _No, I'm_ going _to worry about it. I could have hurt you, and that's wrong. And I can still try to find a way to repress my aura. It's not completely your fault, dumbass, so don't make yourself the villain."_

Now Lance's mouth is  _really_ open, and for a split second Keith is afraid he came on a little too strongly. 

And then, Lance  _laughs._

For some reason, that makes Keith embarrassed, rather than angry. He huffs and crosses his arms, which is his usual,  _please stop_ pose, but Lance looks at his face after calming down and bursts out laughing again. 

 _Are you done?_ He snaps harshly when Lance finally stops himself. 

"Sorry, sorry, but. _You were so serious there._ I, uh, didn't know how to react... really sorry." His voice turns sober at the end. "Uh. I probably seem like a bigger asshole now, right? Heh."

Keith rolls his eyes.  _Are you actually sorry or not?_

Lance sighs. "I swear I am."

 

Keith almost grins, but manages to contain himself last second. He crosses his arms.  _A challenge._ Over the past few days, Keith has noticed that Lance likes challenges, and he's feeling a lot better talking to Lance like this; his laughter disrupted the tension from before, which is a good thing, he has to admit.  

Lance takes the bait and tilts his chin up as if to say,  _oh yeah? Watch_ this. 

Taking a deep breath, Lance forms a fist with his thumb on the top. Watching Keith's expression carefully, he brings it to his chest and moves it in clockwise, once. 

He waits. Keith stares back for a solid five seconds until he gets it. 

_Oh._

A snap.

 _“ I don’t know sign language,” _he spells out.

When Keith had first gone mute, nobody at the orphanage had realized that maybe Keith needed another way to communicate, and neglected to teach him. Living on the streets had not taught him any sign language either, and after meeting Shiro he denied the offer, determined to find his voice. And it was going well, for the couple of years that it lasted. Then the accident happened, and he didn't feel like trying. Besides, nobody would stop and talk to him in something like sign language at the  _Arena._

So, long story short, Keith has never gotten around to learning it.

“Oh,” Lance says, a little pathetically. “I— thought that… since, you know…”

_"I never had the opportunity"_

"Wait, wait, wait, really? I feel like Shiro would have wanted you to learn. Or something like that," Lance says, scratching the back of his head. 

_ "I only got adopted by his family when I was thirteen."  _

Lance's eye's bulge from his head. "You're  _adopted?_ To be honest I thought you were secretly cousins, or something."

_ Shiro literally introduced me as his brother. _

"Yeah, but who knows?  _I_ don't, that's for sure."

Keith, then, realizes that he has no idea what Lance is trying to get at. It's almost funny, how incredibly  _off_ from each other they are, because he has never met someone so  _outlandish_ and  _annoying,_ but somehow still kind and an idiot, in a fond way. And here they are, less than a week after their first meeting and already a big mess. 

Lance, apparently, finds this funny as well, because he bursts out into laughter ( _again)_ after seeing the look on Keith’s face.

“Oh _man,_ Keith,” he says in between wheezes. “Are we aliens to each other, or something? I feel like very attempt we make at talking is just like —  _bam!_ Ooh, missed shot." 

Smiling, Keith reaches into his pocket to give his letter to Lance — but before he can take it out the other stops him, grabbing onto his arm with a firm grip. 

“That’s another apology letter, right? I don’t need it. If you’re going to write me something every time something like this happens, I get the feeling I’ll be getting hundreds of papers.”

Keith frowns at that. _But I still feel like I haven't apologized enough_ he writes out, and the flames cast a small glow on Lance’s dark skin.

Lance pouts at that, thinking for a moment, before his eyes light up. “We can use this! 

Again, he puts his hand into a fist and moves it in a circle around his chest. “It means ‘I’m sorry’ in ASL. Simple, right? It’ll be, like, our code! So we don’t have to like, do this every time, yanno? …Unless it’s a serious argument. Then we might need to talk.” Lance stops himself, rethinking his words. “Or, uh, I’ll talk, and you can write. Does that sound like a deal?”

Lance holds out his hand — a peace offering. 

He hesitates for only a second before grabbing it. Lance's hand is cool to the touch, a stark contrast against his own, always-warm skin. When he lets go, he almost tries to hold on. Almost. 

The color of the sky shines even brighter, as the noontime sun sends radiant light on their figures, casting long shadows. Keith’s letter, now useless and crumpled in his other hand, flutters in the wind.

"Great. Let's go back in, yeah?" Before Lance actually hopes the door, though, he jolts as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh— I know I said I didn’t need that, but uh, I just realized you probably worked really hard to write it. Do you want me to read it anyways?”

Keith answers by looking Lance directly in the eye as he lets his magic run through his fingertips, licking up the letter in flames that reflect the color of the sun. The ashes rise upwards as they form, swirling before disappearing to a higher atmosphere.

Lance laughs at that too ( _he's always laughing,_ Keith thinks,  _again, not a bad thing, just... something i'm not used to)_. “I’ll take that as a no. Come on, let's go inside. We should probably apologize to everyone else for creating such a mess yesterday.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

_Crap,_ he thinks.  _I shouldn't have done that._

Lance catches his expression and tilts his head. "Hm? Oh, nobody's mad at you, not really. So don't worry about it." 

Keith smiles sheepishly. _That letter was also an apology to the rest of you guys... I forgot and just burned it..._

"Oh," Lance says, reflecting Keith's thoughts. "Um— okay. That's okay. They'll understand. Here — how about we teach them ASL for I'm sorry too? That way, we can all communicate."

He smiles, and before grabbing onto his hand he searches Keith's expression for a yes or no. When Keith nods, Lance grabs on lightly and gives him a small smile before opening the door. 

 _It's not perfect,_ Keith thinks as he's led inside.  _I feel as if we both are still missing out a lot on each other. I feel as if i'm missing out a lot on_ everyone.

He looks to the expectant faces inside. Hunk looks up from the back so quickly he trips over himself, and Pidge cackles on the couches. Shiro sends a concerned look to Keith, while Allura looks the same way at Lance. 

 _It's not perfect, but for now, it's more than enough._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahhahahaha Keith is on a constant rollercoaster of highs and lows... mostly lows.... I love Keith I swear I do...
> 
> What do you guys think of Keith's magic? I hope it's interesting. Anyways, as uHHHHHH school testing and AP exams are coming up soon, I can't promise the next chapters will be out quickly, but I promise!!! I'll do my best. Until next time!


	5. because the world is full of riddles and mysteries, wishing for “normal” is like chasing a pipe dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who got an email update before the release of this chapter.. im sorry! accidentally clicked "published" before i was done and had to delete it. We still have a lot more of this fic to go, but I have a finalized list of events that will happen, so we are moving forward folks! 
> 
> I worked on this chapter for a while, and was GOING to post it the day after AP testing ended, but decided to post this right before AP testing starts. I kinda don't like how it turned out but i feel like if I try to 'fix' it for any longer i'll never post it. And i wanted to give you guys something before I disappear into the inevitable void of school testing!! This is a bit of an interude chapter so uhhh well. yeah, hope you enjoy.

Of all people to be Keith's first customer, he really does _not_ expect it to be his old therapist.

It's been two weeks since his fight (and reconciliation) with Lance, and three days since his carvings officially made their debut, and he'd like to say that things have been smooth sailing since then, but then he'd be lying. He feels even more pressure to try to behave since Shiro's birthday is at the end of the month, but in the midst of countless stupid arguments he barely remembers that Shiro is counting on him to be 'the bigger person,' nor does he recall the 'secret code' (aka sign language) he and Lance are supposed to have. 

It always goes something like this: Lance does something stupid and Keith barely restrains himself from making another dent on the wall. And then Keith makes a mistake, which leads to Lance pouting and moaning for _hours_ on end. They'll both ignore each other's desperate attempts to sign 'sorry' in ASL whenever they feel petty. Rinse and repeat. To Keith, their incessant bickering feels like he's playing a game of  _how can we piss each other off this time?_ every morning. Keith would probably have stopped trying to be nice to Lance if...

...if the arguments ever  _lasted_ longer than a day. 

But they don't. Just when Keith think's he's pushed Lance a bit too far, he laughs it off and Keith wonders how he ever reached that conclusion. And when he thinks he never wants to talk to Lance again, he somehow manages to cool off in a few hours and he sometimes even forgets that he was offended in the first place.  It's a strange cycle, one that makes Keith wonder if it's healthy for a relationship to be like this, but with such little experience with making lasting connections, not to mention his amazing track record of doing things the  _opposite_ of healthy and not realizing, he has nothing to prove it otherwise. 

(He would try to stop, probably, but there's something about Lance's personality that just doesn't quite click yet, and for now mindless bickering seems to be the way to test each other's boundaries. Besides, how _else_ is he supposed to react to stupid challenges and insults? He's afraid he hasn't quite learned anything other than to try and bite back when someone taunts him). 

The fact that Keith is getting used to it, however, doesn't mean it's not  _tiring_  at times.Their 'rivalry' (as Lance likes to call it) means Keith has a difficult time connecting to the other in any other context. 

Which is why Keith finds himself somewhat relieved when he's told he finally has a customer. Perhaps the real work will give him some time to breathe and think, give him time to try and see if there's anything he can do to get along with Lance better. Because, surprise surprise, Keith finds himself caring. 

But even the thought of looking forward to work does nothing to prepare Keith to see _him,_ and It's just a little more than shocking, to say the least, to look up from his block and see a familiar, orange mustache on a face he'd never thought he'd see again walking through the door.

"Coran! So glad you could make it," greets Allura as he enters. There are a multitude of thoughts running through his head, then, all along the lines of,  _How does Allura know Coran?_ and  _Why is Coran here in the first place?_

"Hello, princess! Good to see you to," Coran says, in the same exact tone he had all those years ago. His eyes wander from object to object, nodding randomly as if approving of them as he talks. "Of course, when I heard my old friend Keith was joining your crew, I had to come over to visit. I hope you've been doing well?"  

Before Allura can respond, Lance comes through the back room with a wild expression.  _"Coran!"_ he exclaims, stumbling over his feet to rush. "You didn't tell us you'd be visiting!"

"Wanted it to be a surprise," Coran responds with wink. His arms automatically open up, as if knowing that Lance will embrace him in seconds.  

Keith is suddenly reminded of how much he's changed since he last saw Coran, and how much Coran looks... well, the same as he did all those years ago. Even the way he says hello to everyone else is similar to the way he always greeted his parents, with a bit of an eccentric smile and a jovial "greetings!" 

They make eye contact, then, and Keith feels, for a second, fourteen again, sitting awkwardly in a big, plush chair as he waited for his session to start. 

Takashi's parents had tried to set him up with a therapist merely weeks after getting officially adopted, but it wasn't until he turned fourteen when Keith finally conceded. And even then, he had only agreed because they begged him to, and he felt guilty for ignoring the one request of the people who fed him and gave him a home.

"It'll be fun," Takashi had said lightly one morning, as if it was simple thing, as if he _didn't_ know that the real reason was because they were afraid of what might happen if he were left alone to think.

( _"I can't imagine what it's like living with that burden,_ " he once overheard Takashi's mother say to her husband. _"And I don't think this is something we can handle ourselves. He needs_ professional _help.")_

As a firm believer that he didn't need anyone, he only promised a minimum of six months. Thankfully, everyone accepted this as the best they would get, and that was how Keith met Coran Smithe, a magic analyst and therapist. He was the one who recommended that Keith use fire magic as an intermediate, reducing the chances of accidentally blowing things up. Coran was good at that — finding solutions to almost impossible problems. It was almost scary how well he psychoanalyzed people.

Sessions usually consisted of Keith  _doing._ Coran didn't seem troubled by his reluctance to speak, and spent most of the time guiding him on how to use his abilities in a safer way. And cookies. There were somehow  _always_ cookies, and as someone who didn't have the luxury of sweets during his childhood, he ate them up faster than he could breathe. If there was one useful skill the orphanage taught him, it was to do things  _quickly,_ because you never knew when said thing would be taken away.

Maybe it was the fact that Keith never felt pitied when he was with him. Or maybe it was the fact that Coran helped him understand that anger wasn't necessarily a bad thing, that it was okay to feel, okay to have this kind of strength.

Either way, six months soon turned into a year, and then two. The only reason he had stopped seeing him was that the Shiroganes were unable to pay for it any longer. And by the time they should have been more stable in terms of income, it didn't matter, because by then it was post-accident and there was no longer an 'income' to speak of. Maybe if he got a job, he could have saved up for it, even asked for a discount — they were close, and Coran would understand — but Keith didn't want to see anyone, especially not _him_ , who would see through his ruse of acting okay during his time in college. 

He wonders if Coran can see through him now; see that maybe, maybe, Keith hasn't changed that much since his younger days. He's older and more mature for sure. But he still clenches his teeth, still thinks anger is his worst enemy, and still  _doesn't talk._ He still represses everything, the good and the bad, still hopes for a day where he won't be chained by fear and magic.  

"—Earth to Keith?" Coran's voice cuts through his thoughts. Keith blinks out of his reverie and smiles sheepishly. "Ah, there you are. You know, even though Shiro sends me pictures of you and tells me how you're doing, I don't think I've fully grasped how much you've grown until now!"

As soon as Keith processes Coran's words he shoots his brother a dirty look. _Really?,_  he thinks, _You said we lost his number!_

Shiro looks away innocently, but Keith doesn’t miss the glint in his eyes. _Oh, for fuck's sake._

“Oh, don’t be so harsh on your brother. I’m simply glad to see you’re back. When Shiro mentioned that you went along to the A—“ He pauses, suddenly, as if catching himself. "—along to another town, and I was worried!” Coran laughs a bit too loudly. “So glad you're safe! I hope you're getting along with everyone?"

 _Okay._ Shiro told Coran about him being a part of the Arena. Great. Before he can wrangle his brother, Lance slings an arm around his shoulders and answers for him. He tries not to flinch, because even though he'd just rather not be touched, Lance is being gentle about it and he appreciates the effort. "Yep! As well as six magically-inclined peas in one, single, contained pod for hours every day can!"

"That's a very roundabout way of answering," Coran says, teasingly. "Almost makes me think things aren't going well." 

 _"What?"_ Lance exclaims, aghast, as if he didn't just throw a temper tantrum thirty minutes ago over the fact that Keith didn't know what his favorite cartoon was. "I love Keith! And speaking of my wonderful, amazing, sweet buddy, my  _pal,_ my  _brother from another mother..._ uh, how exactly do  _you_ know Keith?" 

Keith blinks, and finds himself wanting to scowl and laugh at the same time.  _A paradox,_ he thinks,  _Lance truly is a paradox._

"I'm curious as well," Allura adds, leaning forward on the counter with her hands on her chin. "You mentioned knowing him when he was a teenager?"

Coran nods at that. "Keith used to be my patient years ago. Fortunately, I still kept in contact with Shiro, and now here we are! A reunion after seven years!"

He waits, then, for the questions, the  _looks._ But nothing comes, and Keith barely manages to hide his surprise when the conversation continues along, as if needing therapy is normal to them. 

 _(Stupid, stupid,_ Keith berates himself,  _why are you assuming they'd think along the same lines as you did when you were literally thirteen? There's nothing wrong with needing help, nope, nothing, nothing at all, so why—_  he shuts down his thoughts before they go any further)

"Wait, wait, hold up—" Hunk interrupts. "I thought you were a car mechanic, not a therapist. Or, uh, am I wrong?"

"No, what? Coran's a _chef,_ duh. He brought those croquets he made last time, remember?" Pidge says, adjusting her glasses. 

"Actually, Coran worked as barista when he used to babysit me," Allura adds, tilting her head in thought. 

Everyone looks to Coran, who simply shrugs. "I must say, as a man of many talents, I cannot be confined to one profession! And speaking of talent, I hear commissions for Keith's carvings are open?"

"They are indeed," Shiro says, and Keith has to rub his eyes to realize that  _Coran is his first customer._

Everyone drifts off to their individual jobs, then. Allura and Lance work with items left behind by customers for inspection, using their respective magic to see into and purify them. Hunk, similarly to Allura, goes back to meditation to try and induce his visions. Pidge, like a machine, churns out hexes and curses left and right, hyperfocused on her task. Shiro goes into his own corner and sets up a few stones from Hunk and goes about infusing them, and chaining them to various jewelry to be sold.

And Keith? Keith moves to the couches and sits with Coran. For a moment, it feels like he's going to start a therapy session with Coran, with him still being a troubled teen who was in desperate need of help. 

But then Coran looks at him in the eyes and says, "So, Keith, how do you feel about lions?"

And Keith suddenly realizes that back then, Coran hadn't  _pitied_ him per-say, but he had been treated as a kid. Someone who needed an intervention, a problem child. Now, he sees that he  _has_ changed since all those years ago — somewhere along the way, he became an adult. Still traumatized and struggling to function, but an  _adult._ And so, Coran is talking to him as such; an adult, and a friend.

 _" I can do lions," _he snaps, confident, _smiling_. 

Coran smiles back at him. 

* * *

Exactly five hours later, Keith forgets the entire spiel about being an adult and finds himself getting into yet another competition with Lance.  

It's strange, really, how easily Keith is sucked into the other's antics, no matter how stupid they seem to be in hindsight. The thing he has the most trouble wrapping his head around, though, is the fact that, in the midst of all the pettiness and insults they fling at each other, sometimes it's kinda...  _fun._ Fun in the sense that every time Lance raises his eyebrows in a challenge, he feels a thrill that goes through his body not unlike the same rush he gets at the Arena. Sure, that place was a hell-hole, but it was also a place where Keith could, at the beginning at least, felt that he could be 'free' in his own, twisted way. 

Not sure what to do with these thoughts and emotions at the moment, though, Keith just directs his thoughts all onto his third plate of burgers at the Balmera Diner. Lance, across from him, is similarly stuffing himself, and the look in his eyes isn't unlike the looks he gets from across the battlefield. 

“Guys, I get that you both have ‘dignity’ to protect or whatever, but do you _really_ need to bring this over to the dinner table?” Pidge sighs, looking a little green at the massive amount of food they’re inhaling.

They had decided to eat out together — Coran included — for the sake of it. Apparently it had been a while since Coran visited, and so Allura called for a great big feast, all on her. 

("Don't worry too much about it," Pidge whispered when Keith was about to protest, "she's pretty loaded. Her family is basically royalty.")

Keith is eating slowly, and he knows that while Lance is two burgers ahead of him he's going to win. 

“It’s _more_ than protecting dignity, Pidgeon,” Lance says after a particularly large gulp. “And besides, we’re just about done. I’m gonna _wipe Keith off the floor_ with my lead.” 

Keith just smirks, and Shiro speaks for him.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” his brother says sagely, biting into a fry himself. “Just try not to get sick, you two.”

“Wait, Shiro, you’re going to _allow_ this?” Hunk asks, a bit offended. “This unhealthy race to consume the most food as possible?”

“Do you really think my words are going to stop them?” Shiro says with a raised eyebrow.

 _“Yes,”_ Pidge and Hunk say at the same time. “You’re like, our adult supervision. The parent-slash-guardian. The  _dad._ If you were serious, of course we’d listen to you,” the shorter adds.

“ _Hey,_ you guys are adults too. I’m not _that_ old."

“Shiro, you're literally like ten years older than me," Pidge snorts.

"That's still like, kinda-older sibling range, right? I mean, it's definitely not  _dad_ range," Shiro supplies weakly. 

"Oh, just accept it Shiro. None of us are real adults besides you and Coran. And Coran isn't here often, so you're the adult of the group," Allura says lightly. 

"I'm very offended right now. I hope you all know this is my disappointed face."

Lance suddenly slams the table, looking up from his food. “You know what i'm disappointed in? The fact that you're _not rooting for me._ I thought we had a pact?"

Shiro shrugs at that. “I’m just saying. Keith is a slow eater,” _because he physically can’t eat otherwise,_ he doesn’t add, “but he can eat a lot. I’ve seen him. He’s like an animal. Sometimes I really think he is one.”

Keith shoves Shiro in retaliation and sticks up the middle finger. 

“Oh my _god._ Keith has no fear,” Pidge says dramatically, and Keith almost laughs at the expression Shiro makes.

“What's that even supposed to mean? Am I that scary?”

This time, even Keith nods. _Sometimes,_ he writes out when Shiro gives him an incredulous look. _When you’re really angry._

This seems to put his brother in a hilariously bad mood, and they spend the rest of their time compiling a list of all the things that make Shiro a “good, loving dad” (coined by Lance), the food competition momentarily forgotten.

It goes well, until Coran says, "and you're an adult, just like me!" which brings them back to square one. 

"I'm technically only seven years old," Shiro says rather petulantly, seemingly to himself. 

Hunk blinks, and gasps a second later. "I totally forgot you had a leap year birthday! You're actually a baby!"

"Oh my fucking gosh you're right," Lance snorts.

"Excuse me? No cussing around the child," Allura says. 

And Keith watches this session of 'make fun of Shiro' unfold silently, feeling… content, not for the first time this week. It’s the closest he’s gotten to ‘happy’ in a long time. 

He had almost forgotten what it had felt like, the feeling of being full of warm food and friends. It’s only been a month since meeting these people, but Keith feels as if he's known them for a while, maybe. Not as long as they've all known each other (he wonders if he'll ever get to that level of closeness they all share, if it's possible for him to become  _best_ friends with these people) but longer than a measly four weeks. 

The only strange thing that happens that night is when Lance looks at Keith as if he's eaten something wrong. It's distant, cold, and happens so fast he wonders if he imagined it.  Was that... actual irritation? Jealousy? Haughtiness? Keith can't tell, but he's afraid he's done something to actually offend the other and spends the rest of dinnertime wondering where he went wrong. 

Outside, storm clouds begin to gather. 

Keith doesn't recall any reports on rain, and he's pretty sure the afternoon was full of crisp, blue skies. Nobody comments on it, though, so Keith doesn't either, instead settling back into the flow of the conversation as best as he can, putting away thoughts of Lance for... later. As always. 

Dinner ends shortly after that, and everyone goes their separate ways at the front of the diner. Coran promises he'll be staying for a while, although he doesn't share where he's staying for the time being. Keith sticks with Shiro since they're going the same direction anyways. 

He looks up to the hidden moon on his way back home, and thinks of the first night he had met Hunk and Lance. It had started raining that day too. 

“You’ve been using your magic more,” Shiro starts. It’s his way of saying, _you’ve been more open lately._ “You usually only use it when you have to, or if you’re feeling really comfortable.”

  _Comfort._ The word layers on Keith like a blanket, sending warmth through his skin that has nothing to do with the literal fire in his veins. 

 _“Maybe I’m just really comfortable, then,_ _”_ Keith writes, and it’s supposed to come out sarcastic, but his glowing words are soft under the dark sky. 

“Maybe,” Shiro repeats, picking up on it anyways.

While the clouds are ominous, they don't rain on Keith like last time, and it's only after he's safely made it home and watered his sword lilies that it begins to pitter-patter. It's light, but dreary all the same, and Keith finds himself listening to the beat of the wind as he drifts to sleep. 

* * *

The days pass, and Keith slowly starts to gain a flow of customers. 

It's a strange new normal, but he doesn't dislike it. His fingers ache with the amount of work he's doing, but it's relieving to be busy. And since he has a lot of time to think to himself while carving, Keith finds himself thinking about everyone else at the Lion's Den. First he thinks of Lance, but then he can physically feel himself getting frustrated at the fact that he just  _can't_ understand the other. Not fully, anyways. 

So when he's not thinking about how confusing Lance is, he ends up thinking about how Pidge is always hesitant around him, or how Hunk always tries to awkwardly include him group activities, or how Allura regards Keith as if he's a customer at times, with clipped _h_ _ellos_ and strained  _how was your_ _days?_ Even the people he knows, Shiro and Coran, treat him lightly at times, as if forgetting that Keith isn't the same person he was years ago. 

(It's not unexpected, that they would be uncertain in how to communicate and interact with him after only a month. He knows he shouldn't compare his relationship to everyone to how everyone else treats each other, because they've known each other for way longer and he shouldn't expect that kind of instant connection, especially when  _he himself_ is involved. But his heart still pangs with a desperate kind of  _want_ whenever he sees them all, so perfect together in their own, messy ways, and the picture of everyone laughing makes him wonder if this is what a 'family of choice' is. He still clings to Hunks words all those weeks ago,  _family_ he said, as if they're the ticket to his existence, as if without it he doesn't deserve to even be here.)

At one point, they even try to add him to a group chat with everyone but it's hard keeping up with so  _much_ when he's spent a majority of his childhood keeping his inner circle to three people at  _most._

So, yeah, socializing is hard. Nothing new there, not really. It's definitely easier than it's been before, but still  _difficult,_ and he can't help but feel frustration bubble in him whenever he thinks about how much  _closer_ he could be with all these people. 

 _(But what?_ a darker part of him thinks, _I_ _f they get closer, they'll see how messed up and disgusting you are and leave. What you have know is the best you're gonna get)._

Keith shakes his head, then, blinking away the spots on his eyes as he looks up to the dark ceiling.  _I thought you were done pitying yourself,_ he scolds to himself. He checks his charging phone for the umpteenth time that night because he just cannot  _sleep_ for some reason, and the excess amount of time on his hands is leading to dangerous activities. Like thinking too much. He does enough overthinking during the day, thank you very much. 

His phone reads somewhere close to 1 AM, and the flashing date also reminds Keith that Shiro's birthday is closer than expected, and he needs to start preparing a gift for him. 

Right. A gift. He hasn't gotten his brother anything for the last four years, since their parents passed... on the same day. For a second, he plays with the idea of asking what everyone else will get for Shiro, but he pushes the idea away because he's his  _brother_ and he of all people should know what to do in situations like this. 

He's afraid, he realizes. Of suddenly knowing that these people know Shiro better than he does, and the thought alone is enough to make him feel extremely bitter and  _angry._

So he doesn't ask, and instead wonders. Things like charms are a no-go, because Shiro literally makes them every day and could probably make a better one than Keith could ever create. And Shiro doesn't have any problems with his magic, not in the way Lance, Hunk, or Allura does in the sense that he can get overwhelmed. He also has powerful abilities, but on the opposite spectrum of Keith, (although some, secret part of him thinks Shiro would be an amazing Arena player if he tried) so anything along the lines of nullification charms would be worthless. 

Perhaps Shiro's magic is most similar to Pidge's, seeing as they both can get incredibly drained if they use their magic for too long, but even then they're completely different — Pidge works with physical things, and creates, while Shiro deals with non-corporeal things that are already existing, like emotions and spirits. 

The sound of rain brings him out of his thoughts — for some reason, it's been raining a lot more, reducing his trust of the local weather app — and suddenly, Keith feels  _trapped,_ _choked_ even. As if the rattling window panes will shatter all of a sudden, bringing in wind and water and  _something_ that will ruin his room. A part of him wants that to happen, as if physical carnage can bring upon a sort of catharsis. As if destruction can release the mess of thoughts and  _emotions_ in him. 

He feels hopelessly lost, and alone in the darkness of his room he feels the beginnings of an old panic, one he thought he abandoned long ago (but then again, when do old fears truly die?) when he fought his last battle at the Arena. 

Keith needs to  _move._

Thinking of his Arena days brings a bittersweet taste to his mouth. During that last fight, he had been punched in the stomach so hard that tears had been brought to his eyes. Of course, they never fell, but now that he's not on adrenaline, Keith realizes it's been a long time since he's cried. Strange, since as a child, he used to be a crybaby. 

He has only a few memories from his earlier years at his time at the orphanage, but most of them all involve him bursting into tears. He wasn't a quiet crier either — he always did it with keening wails, and great shuddering sobs that shook his entire body. It was like a force of nature, a tsunami; an unstoppable surge that came up with little to no warning, crashed onto land leaving foam and debris everywhere. 

And then, he just... stopped. 

To outsiders, it probably seemed to happen suddenly, the same way his silence did. But really, it was only a matter of time until Keith learned the essential rules for survival. 

He was six, and he was  _hurt,_ getting bullied by the slightly-older and way bigger orphans who he roomed with. He began to tremble, a sign, when suddenly his mouth was covered by a sweaty palm and a voice in his ear whispered,  _"If you cry and get us in trouble, I'll kill you in your sleep."_

Even at that age, Keith knew he wasn't being serious about the threat. There was no way would be  _murdered_ for crying. An eight year old couldn't kill, right?

But it was then that Keith realized something. Like a switch turned off, the shaking stopped and the tears never came. It was as if the older boy's words were a tipping point, the final push for his brain to catch up and realize a truth he never quite unlearned. 

_The best way to survive is to stay silent._

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Keith was alone in the world, with no one to even call his family. The thing that mattered most was that he _survive._ He didn't have the luxury, didn't  _let_ himself have the luxury, to care for things like comfort and happiness. It was his way of coping. 

And so, from then on, when someone tried to bully or taunt him, Keith didn't respond with silly things like words or tears: he responded with his fists. With  _action._ In a world where of eat-or-be-eaten, Keith was determined to stay desperately alive, and it was clear the best way to do so was to beat the others to the punch. Literally. If he moved faster, if he reacted faster, if he was just  _faster, faster, faster,_ so fast they couldn't catch him, then surely, he was invincible. 

That's what he told himself then, and now, so many years into the future Keith realizes he never really did unflip that switch; that he has not cried a single tear since then, his body still irrevocably ingrained into the mindset of living at the bare minimum, of barely touching the ground before running off again. He knows it's not true anymore, but as he tries to bring himself to tears an old, basic fear of  _'you're going to get in trouble'_ rises up and chokes it back down. 

So maybe that's why he doesn't bother to bring an umbrella with him as he steps out into the pouring rain, because the sensation of water falling down his cheeks is something lost. Coran used to strongly advocate that it was therapeutic to cry, and it wasn't something to be ashamed of, but as puddles seep through his battered sneakers he guesses this is the closest he'll ever get to finding that peace. 

Keith has never stopped being like a natural disaster; the difference between now and then is that Keith now expresses everything inward, keeps the typhoons and winds inside so they only hurt himself, only leak through the pores of his skin in smaller increments that can't kill. 

Before realizing it, Keith finds himself in front of the Lion's Den. It's way past closing time, and yet, a warm light peeks through the covered windows like a small firefly in the dark summer sky. It beckons to him, and Keith stays out for a second longer before walking up the now-familiar rickety steps and opens the door gently. 

Inside is Shiro and Pidge. He's heard of the two staying until very late at night, both due to the fact that they can't sleep very well, but it's the first time he's actually seen them working like this. Pidge sits near the fireplace, tinkering with something or the other, sparks flying from her hands. Shiro sits across from her, just sitting,  _staring,_ and Keith knows he's thinking about their parents. 

(He wonders, then, not for the first time, what it's like for your birthday to be the anniversary of your parent's death. What it's like painfully knowing the moment you're officially older is the same moment your mother and father stopped aging altogether.

But he doesn't think about it too much, because deep down, he thinks he might know the feeling all too well).

Pidge looks to him, but does not speak, and Keith, ironically enough, wishes he could fill the silence. As always, though, he doesn't, and instead finds himself trudging through and plopping himself down so that he's on the opposite end of Shiro's couch.

"Hey," she finally says for him. "You're sopping wet."

Keith, despite himself, snorts.

It's not talking, but it's a sound anyways, and Keith isn't the only one who blinks in surprise. For a quick moment he thinks he'll get in trouble. Then he berates himself for thinking something so stupid. 

"Rough night?" Pidge continues a beat later, as if that wasn't the first time she ever heard Keith, well, in _general._

Keith nods, fingers still jittery from the feeling of needing to do — do  _something._ Instead of running, though, just taps his foot rapidly against the floor.

And thats it. No questions or weird looks. They exist together, silently. Outside, the storm continues on, pounding relentlessly at the ceiling with sheets of rain. Keith closes his eyes and imagines that the noise is enveloping him, carrying him away. _Sound is proof of living,_ Keith thinks. Sound is comforting, something that reminds Keith that he's not alone. Especially here, in the small sliver of day where everyone but the weary sleeps.  _But still, yet, I can't say anything._

_A snort, though. That's... new._

Shiro, who would usually be ecstatic for Keith, is deathly quiet, almost rivaling Keith. He wishes he were a better brother then, or that at least he could know how to comfort him. But he isn't, and doesn't, so Keith just helplessly sends Shiro a few comforting looks. As if his stare can heal him, or something. 

"Alright," Shiro says suddenly at one point, picking himself up. "I'm going to head home now. The both of you, get home safely."

And then, he's gone, and it's just the two of them. He fidgets, not sure what to do now. Should he leave Pidge too? 

Pidge, as if answering his question, wordlessly casts one of her hexes, and Keith is surprised to realize he hasn't really seen that happen until... now, really. She wraps the entire hex, breadboard stuffed with circuits and all, in her palm and mutters something quiet under her breath. There's a green glow seeping through her fingers, almost neon in the warm light, and then she flicks it in Keith's direction with a flick of her wrist. What comes out is an almost-invisible sheen of something that can only be described as  _magic,_ and it settles over him like a charmed blanket. 

He doesn't realize what it's doing until his clothes stop sticking to him and there's a big vapor cloud of gaseous water surrounding him. 

"You're welcome," Pidge says before Keith can even snap. "I know you can't get cold, but being wet doesn't seem like fun for anyone."

Keith realizes how tired she looks, then, even compared to Shiro. Pidge is the youngest of them all, and yet she stays up the latest. Her magic seems to drain her more than the typical amount of exhaustion magic-users experience, and it's even more obvious now, with the deep, almost ingrained set of eye bags that make her look like a raccoon and a weariness in her posture that slumps. 

In fact she looks a little... sick, even. 

Pidge catches Keith analyzing her and adjusts her huge eyeglasses, as if they can hide the state of her face better. "I'm fine," she adds hastily, giving a small, weak smile. "Just tired. I can see you worrying over me from there. You should probably be more concerned about Shiro." 

Keith sends her a look, as if to say  _Shiro can take care of himself, he just left, and also you look like actual shit,_ but if she gets the message she doesn't show it. Instead, she tries to get up stretch. Keyword:  _tried._ She immediately falls backwards instead, and Keith can't even do anything because he's not close enough to catch her and his magic isn't suited to grabbing things from far away, unless he's trying to burn something.

"I'm  _fine,"_ she stresses after catching her breath. It would be more convincing if she didn't stop to have a coughing fit in the middle of her words. 

 _"When was the last time you rested?"_ He snaps instead of responding. 

"Define rested," she says dryly. 

Keith fumbles for a bit, not sure what to say to that. _"Longer than six hours of sleep,"_ he finally settles on.

Pidge bites her lips, but doesn't respond. 

 _ "...when was the last time you_ ate?" He pushes. 

"Today's friday, right?" Pidge finally says. 

 _"Saturday,"_ He snaps,  _appalled._

Pidge blinks at that. "Oh. Well... The last time I slept or ate may or may not have been a few days ago and— I uh, wow I'm not helping my case here at all, am I?."

_"Hope you know you look absolutely feverish."_

"Psh, that? That's nothing. Really."

Keith stares at the flushing of Pidge's cheeks and realizes he doesn't even need to check to instinctively know that Pidge is probably burning up. _Damn,_ how did he not notice it all before? Was this a recent development or was she like this earlier in the day? Did the others normally fuss over her? Would she be offended if Keith pushed her to rest?

Well, he'd rather be safe than sorry. 

 _"Pidge, just go home. And don't come back until you're feeling better."_  When Pidge gives Keith a _look,_ he sends one right back. As someone who has insisted that they were fine while high on a fever multiple times, he knows it really is better to just listen and  _rest. Really, you look like shit."_

"That's not a very nice to say."

_ "If you don't go back right now I'm going to call and tell everyone that you haven't slept properly in a month."  
_

For a moment, Keith thinks he's overstepped, but then Pidge groans, the same way she does when Lance makes a bad pun or when Hunk goes into a particularly long story. "You, sir, are ten times more evil than originally calculated."

 _"Yeah, yeah,"_ he snaps, amazed at how Pidge is actually  _listening to him_.  _"Do you need help going home?"_

Pidge quirks an eyebrow. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I live kinda far from here."

 _"All the more reason for me to take you. You're like a baby,"_ he teases. 

 _"Hey._ I'm eighteen now, okay? I'm perfectly capable of walking home by myself."

 _"Still,"_ he says, at a loss for words.  

For some reason, Pidge sighs and actually begins put on a jacket. When Keith is frozen to the couch, Pidge just tilts her head and says, "are you actually coming or...?" and those words are enough to send Keith scrambling to move. 

Pidge casts another hex before Keith can stop her, and a big, singular leaf forms above them from the wisps between her fingers, acting as an umbrella of sorts against the wind and rain. 

 _"Stop using magic,"_ Keith says, because as much as he thinks he'll never experience magical fatigue himself, he's heard all about it during classes.  _Be careful not to overexert yourself,_ they always said. 

(He's pretty sure Pidge is overexerting herself).

"It's only for ten minutes,  _mom."_

It's a joke,  _it's just a joke,_ and yet the word 'mom' has Keith reeling for half of the walk. 

Keith finds himself approaching a part of town full of houses, rather than apartments. Pidge's place is built exactly like all the other houses on the block, two stories high with slated roofs and chipping white paint. And maybe it's because he knows its inhabitants, or maybe it's just because it's dark in the middle of the night and he's  _tired,_ but Keith thinks it stands out among the rest. The grass is a little thicker, the windows a little warmer, full of life  _and_ magic. 

(It looks so perfectly of the homes Keith has only seen in movies and while passing by, and it sends an unfamiliar pang down his heart). 

"You can go home now," Pidge says, bringing Keith out of his thoughts. 

 _"Okay. Make sure you sleep a lot, and eat a lot of soup. And orange juice. Stay warm, but not too warm"_ Fuck, Keith has no idea what he should tell Pidge. What are you supposed to do when sick again? Right, wait–  _"And don't do any magic, it'll make you more tired. If I see you at work tomorrow I'll kick you out myself."_

Pidge does a lazy salute before entering her house, and Keith is inexplicably  _thrilled._ Wow. He's actually trying to help another human being. A  _friend._ He just  _forced Pidge to go home and rest._

It's strange, and a part of him thinks he doesn't even _deserve_ this kind of opportunity, but...

...maybe he's somewhat of a 'good' friend after all.   
  
He holds onto the thought, even long after he's gotten into bed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dfkl;sdfa things that are harder than I expected: trying to keep a consistent characterization of everyone. Hope I did keith's interactions with everyone enough justice. Trying to capture Keith and Lance's relationship is very hard as well. 
> 
> Just a note! I will not be working on the next chapter AP testing is over, on May 15th for me, meaning next update will be slow. Sorry for the wait, I promise i'll get back to this as soon as I can! Until then, hope everyone out there also taking any testing does well!


	6. oh mirror mirror chiding me “I can’t be them,” my head agrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Keith, is this... do you want to make _friendship bracelets?"_
> 
> He stills, then frowns, not sure how to say that, _well, it's not exactly a friendship bracelet but if you put it like that it sounds somewhat childish_ , but Pidge is already cackling before he can even think to snap. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. Fucking _friendship_ bracelets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Memorial Day folks! Woah.... would you look at that guys... a new chapter...!!!
> 
> I just want to say i haven't been working on this as often as i'd like because i started playing this game.... and i can't stop playing it at every chance i get lol...
> 
> But i've finally made it guys, and wrote this. Hope you like it??? I feel like im restating a lot of things already mentioned before, so the story feels like its dragging. I'm very sorry, and if u feel like this please let me know! I know i tagged it a slow burn but I don't want to this to be a boring slow burn. 
> 
> Anyways i hope everyone enjoys this chapter I worked very hard to set it up for future events and also to progress the story a bit :')

Somewhere along the way, Keith begins to compile a mental list of all the things he knows about the workers of the Lions' Den. When exactly he started it, he doesn't really know, but it's his way of trying to familiarize himself with everyone; a trick taught by Coran long ago when he admitted it was hard for him to connect with others. 

It goes something like this:

Pidge is always tired. Pidge loves coffee, and will treat you respectfully for about two hours if you get her some. Pidge always sasses people. Pidge, while having talents with both hexes and plants, is especially gifted in breaking hexes. Sometimes she helps Hunk or Shiro make herb pouches to sell. Pidge looks best in green, and according to lance her aura is that exact color, "like a radioactive nuclear power plant or something." She devours any fruit, but despises tomatoes with a passion. She's stubborn, but is also fiercely protective of the things she loves. She pretends she doesn't care about a lot of things, but always does her best to make sure the shop is tidied when she thinks no one is looking.

Hunk is an incredibly good cook, and brings in homemade food from time to time. he has the best hugs, according to Lance (Keith has never experienced one, and while he usually doesn't like human contact it just  _sounds_ nice). He works well with identifying attributes of stones and crystals, despite having an affinity for dream visions rather than charms like Shiro does. He keeps a journal of all the dreams he has, and what all the symbolism might mean. Hunk often discusses with Allura about what he sees, and is always kind enough to give warnings to random strangers even if they didn't pay for a reading. Hunk always greets the customers with a smile. Hunk is a surprisingly talented singer, although he's shy about it. Hunk likes stargazing and building things with his hands. 

Lance has the biggest heart Keith has ever known. He has a huge family, and four other siblings with him exactly in the middle. He can speak Spanish, and used to work for Galra Incorporated — the biggest magic store chain in the entire country — before quitting for undisclosed reasons. He chats off the customer's ears, but they never seem to mind because he's a natural story teller. He loves the ocean, and dreams of sailing off to an island where he can relax with his family and friends. He has multiple magical talents, all related to water. He has trouble filtering out people's auras and the thoughts that go through his head. Lance taps his fingers when he's nervous, and shakes his legs when he's excited. His voice is loud, louder than the waves in the sea, and collects sea glass in mason jars with sand. He owns his own beach house nearby, "which is just a small shack really" he visits every other weekend. 

Allura is beautiful, in every possible aspect. Her hair glows like the tattoos on her cheeks, which are woven with an ancient magic to strengthen and focus her visions. She's a true diplomat and businesswoman, handling everything with an air of poise and grace and countering any technical issues they run into. And yet she's _young,_ often getting swept up in the other's antics and participating in group outings and pranks often. She loves rollercoasters, and is also gifted in a variety of sports. Her sense of design is fantastic as well, and takes after her father immensely. She's dedicated and firm, a solid rock with the way she smiles when the tides get rough. The intellect in her eyes rivals the curiosity in Pidge's, the warmth in Hunk's, the brightness in Lance's, the wisdom in Shiro's. The quirkiness in Coran's.

(The anger in his own). 

Shiro and Coran are both figures he's known for a while, and their lists are already formed (although they're prone to frequent updates). He knows that Shiro doesn't really like cheese, and usually leaves the T.V. on when he's home alone to fill the silent nights. He knows that Shiro still sometimes has nightmares about the accident, that he powers through the days anyways. That he struggles with himself but won't hesitate to extend his arms to help anyone in need. There is kindness, kindness that saved Keith long ago, with a power that might rival his (but Shiro's is calmer,  _more controlled,_ a steady sun that can sustain life with Keith's is an exploding supernova that creates a black hole).

Coran has an air of eccentricity with him carries it around wherever he goes. Nothing escapes his notice, not even the little, mindless mannerisms people have. Keith has learned to be perceptive from him, but he still isn't as good at people-reading as Coran is. He has his own charm, and takes great pride not only in his looks, but also in his skills and expertise. He claims not to have much magic, but Keith secretly suspects that his eyes can read into people's souls, and that's what makes him such a well-rounded person, such a good  _therapist._

When Keith glances at himself in reflections, he adds to a list of his own, although it's much shorter than everyone else's. He stands hunched, and clenches his teeth often. His hands are usually tucked into his jeans. He always wears red. He frowns a lot.

Sometimes, when he sees his own long hair, his own dark eyes, the scar along his neck, he sees a complete stranger. He has no idea who he is, or what he's living for. Other times, he sees a fighter, with a passion and fiery determination that seems to consume him. He wants to  _live,_ wants to be  _happy,_  then, suddenly he's wondering why he should get out of bed.It's an endless cycle, with no in betweens. But no matter who he sees, the one consistent image in the mirror is his  _power,_ an unyielding strength that protects something deeper within. 

(And then there are times when that very power looks exactly like a reflected fragile flower that cannot be exposed to the light, for the fear of crumbling under the gravity of the world). 

When Keith touches the glass, his hand meets with a barely constrained explosion, a bomb ready to explode, flying petals that flutter violently through the air. A black hole that still shines brightly as a star. Sometimes he feels like he's drowning, like his heart is bleeding through his chest and like instinct he always grabs to these facts, that he's somehow still alive. He curls in on himself to protect the fragile beating inside his ribcage, determined not to let the fire die.

But this is how Keith sees himself — a body with too much force, but at the same time barely able to support itself. A paradoxical existence. How _others_ think of him is a completely different story, one Keith doesn’t even know the beginning of.

Yet, at the very least he knows that _‘caring’_ and _‘patient’_ are words that don’t really match him.

So, he can't help but wonder why  _he's_  the one in charge of "Operation Make Pidge Less Sick" ("OMPLS," Lance had called it while giggling.) Maybe it's because he was the one to send Pidge home a few days ago , or whatever, but he's pretty sure trusting him to plan what to bring  _and_ tocarry all the care supplies they've gathered isn't very smart. Especially since a lot of things are flammable around him.

He feels both the thrill of being trusted with something like this, but also the panic of not being  _good_ enough. Keith tries to think of what he would want if he were sick. Well — he heard that Pidge has her own gaming consoles and things at her house, so entertainment might not be a problem. Tea for a sore throat, probably something he should add... maybe one of Shiro's restoration charms? And  _oh,_ that has him thinking, what if...

And suddenly it's a day later, and they've all closed the Lion's Den a bit early to make their way over to Pidge's house

"Pidge wasn't kidding when she said you were like a secret mom friend," Hunk says with a laugh as they walk, eyeing the duffle bag slung over Keith's shoulder. It's a warm day, with the sky painted a light pink as the sun sets. Keith shrugs a bit at the mom comment, but it's hard to ignore the pounding in his heart, especially when Shiro tries to calm him down by ruffling his hair.

"This is like, the  _fifth_ time Pidge is sick from magic overexertion, but like, the  _first_ time she's stayed home for so long. I don't know how you did it," Lance mutters rubbing his chin with his hand. "You bribed her, didn't you?"

Keith smirks and makes a zip-and-lock motion on his mouth to say,  _I'm not telling._ Lance huffs at that and tries to wheedle an answer out of him for the rest oft he walk, and he would be lying if the silly conversation didn't help sooth his nerves.

Pidge's house looks exactly as it did that night, except this time Keith notices a battered brown welcome mat and a couple of overhead pots that were hidden in the darkness. He almost jumps back at the sound of a barking dog when he hesitantly rings the doorbell, and looks over his shoulders to see  everyone's curious faces. 

He swallows loudly, and tries to breathe. 

For some reason, he had been expecting Pidge, but when the door opens he’s met with someone old enough to be a dad (probably _is_ their dad). Small, rectangular glasses sit on his nose, greying hair parted to the right. His face is long, unlike the smaller, angular face of Pidge.

The stranger blinks at him, as if waiting for an explanation.

Keith licks his lips, and stares back.

Before things can drag on for any longer, Lance comes up from behind Keith and says, "Hey Mr. Holt! This is Keith, the newest member of the Lion's Den, and Shiro's brother. We're all here to see how Pidge is doing?"  
  
“Oh, you're the one who got my daughter home safely the other night! You should have said something,” the man starts kindly, but Keith tries not to flinch. “I'm Samuel Holt. Come on in, come on in! Katie’s quote unquote _resting_ in her room right now, if you know what I mean.”

Keith doesn't really, but nods and walks in anyways. He finds himself in a living room with some couches, a TV, and a soft, beige carpet in between. There's a staircase leading to the second floor all the way to the right, and a kitchen to the left. Plants are  _everywhere,_ lush and bright as leaves fall over each other under the window-filtered sunlight. It's strangely fitting, and Keith wonders if Pidge is the one taking care of them all despite her constant complaints over how her second affinity makes her eyes itchy. 

While toeing off his battered sneakers, someone who looks eerily like Pidge, but taller and with longer, flatter hair, suddenly comes from the second floor. 

"Hey Matt!" Shiro calls out, before Keith can fully process that there's someone else here. He recognizes the name his brother calls out instantly, recalling a conversation long ago when they were... roommates in college? If he's remembering correctly, Matt worked in technology magic, and also always bullied Shiro into buying cheetos for him. "Matt, you've never met my brother before, right? This is Keith. Keith, this is my old roommate at the Garrison. He's also, how I met Pidge in the first place."

"Ey, nice to meet you Keith. I've heard a lot about you," Matt says, voice light. He holds out his hand to shake and Keith takes it, feeling a bit lost. "Man, it's been a while since I've seen everyone." 

"It wouldn't 'be a while' if you actually visited us for once," Allura bites out, but there's a lilting tone in her voice that shows that she's not actually angry. Keith absently wonders if the two also met in college. The thought of it all makes Keith feel like even more of an outsider. 

"I'm a very busy man. Pidge brings home any materials I need, anyways."

"You're a lazy ass, that's what," Shiro teases.

"Oh, shut up. I'll go get my sister, so you guys sit tight—"

"I'm already here, doofus," a familiar voice suddenly calls. 

_Pidge,_ he wants to say,  _you shouldn't be out of bed._ Just as he's about to snap, though, he remembers where he is and realizes the Holts probably won't appreciate it if he accidentally burns down their plants and house.

"Why are you guys here?" Pidge continues, slowly descending the steps. "The Lion's Den shouldn't even be closed yet."  
  
"Give us more credit," Allura says warmly. "Of course, when we got a call saying that you wouldn't be going in to work to recover, we all wanted to come over and celebrate!"  
  
"Celebrate  _what,_ exactly," Pidge deadpans.

"Celebrate the fact that you're actually trying to take care of your sad, sad, health!" Lance croons, slinging an arm over Pidge. Keith snorts quietly under his breath as Pidge splutters into a coughing fit, but nobody hears it. "Also, we bear gifts."

"I don't trust a single one of you. Not even Keith," Pidge grumbles, but there's a coloring in her cheeks that makes Keith think she's blushing. "Anyways, you guys can say hi to my mom before... whatever. She should be in the kitchen." 

Keith's brain short circuits at the thought of meeting  _more_ new people, but before he can run, Shiro's warm hand is leading him to the smell of warm, cooking food. He stumbles a bit and manages to catch himself just before coming face to face with a short woman with short, cropped hair the same color as her children. 

"Thank you all for dropping by," Ms. Holt says as they all enter, smiling. In her right had is a wooden spoon, turning over tomato sauce, and the sight of it is so domestic Keith doesn't know how to feel. "Katie has been complaining about how bored she is for  _hours_ now. I'm surprised she's actually stayed home for so long." 

Mr. Holt, who sits on the dinner table with a newspaper, gives everyone a wave. "You're all welcome to stay for dinner if you want. Other than that, I'll leave you kids be." 

"We're not  _kids,_ anymore dad. Hell, I'm the youngest person here and I'm  _eighteen,"_ Pidge grumbles, but Hunk and Lance laugh good-naturedly in a way that makes Keith want to smile too. 

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Holt dismisses. "Anyone want water? Juice? otherwise us adults will leave you be."

"We're fine, Mr. Holt. Thank you very much" Shiro says kindly, and Keith lets himself wonder for a second what it would feel like if he had this kind of family forever. If he had been adopted by the Shiroganes earlier. 

He shakes his thoughts away before they can get too depressing. 

Pidge huffs out a sigh and gestures to all of them to move into the living room. "Just ignore my dad. I can't believe he still treats everyone that comes over like they're twelve or something." 

"Maybe that's because  _you're_ twelve," Lance says, and this is how Keith learns that Pidge can still pack a punch when sick.

"Anyways," she says a moment later, when Lance has made it to the floor, "I'm curious to see what you've brought me." 

The living room is comfy, and Matt joins them all as well. Everyone manages to arrange themselves in a circle, with Pidge on the couches with Hunk and Lance, and Keith, Shiro, Matt, and Allura on the floor. Distantly, Keith hears the sound of shuffling from the kitchen; something he's heard before, but in old memories that have him blinking rapidly. Determined to hopefully to not embarrass himself, Keith takes out a notepad and begins to write.

_Okay, so I was hoping, since it seems like you use your magic a lot, that we could all make some sort of literal charm bracelet? So that you don't burn out so quickly, or so that you can replenish your energy faster. I worked with Shiro and Hunk to make charm-beads. Lance collected the seashells and drilled holes into them, and I carved out a few designs which were charmed by Shiro. Allura was the one who painted the carvings. It's okay if you don't want to do this, though. Just thought it'd be. Cool. _

The last word is written after a moment of hesitance, not sure how to go about it. He got the idea while trying to think of ways to help Pidge recover faster — magic exhaustion, he read, is like having a cold that can only be cured by waiting for a person's magic to restore itself.  _Like mana in a video game,_ Keith always thinks , except in real life there's no "cooldown" to stop someone from overexerting themselves. 

"Keith, is this... do you want to make  _friendship bracelets?"_

He stills, then frowns, not sure how to say that,  _well,_ _it's not exactly a friendship bracelet but if you put it like that it sounds somewhat childish,_ but Pidge is already cackling before he can even think to snap. "Oh my god, _I can't believe this._  Fucking  _friendship_ bracelets. _"_

Keith's cheeks burn. _Ugh, you're right, it was a stupid idea,"_  Keith quickly scribbles out, embarrassment heating his cheeks. This is  _why_ he shouldn't have done this, it was all so  _stupid, stupid, stupid—_

"Are you kidding me? This is an  _amazing_ idea," Pidge says just as furiously, and Keith wonders if he's begun to hear things. "You're going to have to explain what everything is though. My head is still very, very fuzzy I tell you. Geez, this is hilarious..." the last statement is quiet, almost giddy, and Keith realizes it's happiness in her voice, not belittlement. 

And so, their little arts and crafts session begins. 

Keith provides everyone with metal chains (somehow donated by Coran; where he got them, Keith doesn't know) and organizes the center of the circle for everyone to reach and collect a variety of beads and charms. Sometime through the entire process Lance manages to convince everyone to add at least five of his seashells to their own bracelets, and the soft pink and yellow scallop-like shells are a stark contrast to the dark-red beading and mahogany raven sculpture he strings, but he finds himself not minding at all.   

"Of course you go with a red theme. I bet it's your favorite color," Lance snorts while Keith is working.

Keith raises an eyebrow to say, _a_ _nd, what's it to you?_

"We should all go with a color theme," Hunk says, rolling around a gold-leaf peace bead. "I call dibs on yellow."

Not surprisingly, Lance chooses blue, Shiro chooses black, and Pidge chooses green. Something he wasn't expecting was for Allura to choose pink and for Matt to choose brown, but Keith pockets the information for future reference. 

At one point, Keith looks up to see everyone working diligently on their own charms, and a feeling so intense washes over him that Shiro actually looks up and tilts his head. He shakes his head to assure his brother that he's okay, but even the action isn't enough to let his heart stop beating so rapidly. Who knew that this could happen? Just a month ago, he was struggling to pay for a fare to Silver after an accident at the world's largest underground illegal fighting ring. Now, he's sitting at his friend's house and making magical charm bracelets with everyone.

Now, dare he say it, he's  _happy._ And this isn't the first time he's felt the edges of a fluttering joy, because he loves hanging out with these people so much. And it's both incredibly exhilarating to find friends, but also incredibly terrifying to be vulnerable with people, and he finds himself not sure how to feel. 

"Are you done?" Hunk asks kindly, breaking Keith out of his thoughts. He looks down at his charm bracelet, and realizes he's added at least one of every type of bead and charm. 

Keith nods, not trusting himself to write anything for the fear of showing his shaky hands. He looks at what everyone else has made, and thinks that it's all very, very fitting. 

Pidge's has forest-like colors, leaning towards darker shades of green rather than the lighter ones. Lance has given her shells he calls "fighting shells" that are supposed to help "stand your ground, Pidgey."  _Growth, Energy,_ _Strength_   — it all swirls in her roughly-cut beads, forming a strange but quirky amalgamation of a variety of virtues. 

Lance's bracelet is bright, almost lifelike with how much potential magic stored in there. He's the only one with more than one type of shell, with a variety of clams and a "crown conch" at the center of his chain. He also has a miniature shark sculpture, which is somehow incredibly out of place and fitting, along with a gem that Hunk found that apparently looks like it has the ocean in it.  _Healing, beauty, fluidity._

Hunk's is very warm, a majority of his bracelet made up of stones that are full of  _stability, strength,_ and  _clear vision._ Like Pidge's, the stones are roughly cut and a single, wooden star hangs from the center, full of  _luck_ and  _prosperity._

Shiro's is made up of a single pearl in the middle, then a pattern of obsidian and a variety of Keith's carvings.  _Balance,_ Keith senses,  _patience_ and  _clear mind._ Practical, as always. 

Allura's bracelet has the most variety, and the pink theme is kept consistent through shells, beads, painted carvings, and stones. There are gems that look like diamonds throughout the chain, and a lot of Keith's carved flowers.  _Regality, grace,_ and  _determination._

Matt's is similar to Pidge's but brown, and somehow he's managed to add wires to amplify the bead's energies. It seems Matt has focused on things like  _knowledge,_ and  _keen senses,_ and despite only knowing him distantly it doesn't surprise him. 

And then there's Keith's, who unlike everyone else, has chosen attributes of all the things he  _doesn't_ have.  _Calm, control,_ and  _good health._ They're all virtues he  _wishes_ he had, and a silly part of him wonders if he'll finally be able to achieve these things with this singular bracelet. It's not like wants to amplify his only "good" trait, which is  _strength,_ and  _fierceness_ in his opinion.

"Im already feeling better," Pidge declares once slipping them on. 

"Um, excuse me?" Lance says, apparently appalled. "I was just about to say that we should all have a crowning ceremony where we all wear them at the same time and do a big chant, but you've  _soiled_ it."

"That sounds stupid."

_"Soiled it,"_ Lance continues almost hysterically, and Hunk joins in too;  _"Soiled it!"_

It's... ridiculous. Keith doesn't even understand the joke, not really. But maybe that's why his chest suddenly tightens, and he's overwhelmed with the urge to  _laugh_ at the audacity of it. 

It bursts from his lips before he can stop himself. 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but when it comes out raspy and  _ugly_ something in him flinches. It's definitely not like anyone else's laugh — not like the deep rumble Shiro gives, or the cackling from Pidge, or even close to bright and chirpy like Lance's. It's  _hoarse,_ strangely going harsh at random intervals like some sort of broken record. 

Keith puts a hand over his mouth, horrified. He thinks back to the doctors words,  _(unsure if we can make a complete recovery,_ they had said,  _might be weak and unclear),_ and thinks after four years he's finally found an answer to how his voice actually sounds now. 

(Ugly, ugly,  _ugly)._

Everyone — Everyone except Matt, really, who doesn't know Keith like the rest of them do — stare. And suddenly Keith feels like an outsider again, all thoughts of friendship and belonging gone, burned away into crumbling ashes. Tears prickle at his eyes, but never truly form or fall, as always. He wishes he could hide, could cover his hears or run away before anyone says anything; perhaps, Lance will laugh awkwardly and go,  _"well, that was weird,"_ or Pidge will cut in with a  _"Keith, I love you, but don't ever do that again."_  Or maybe, they'll pity him, and Shiro might pat his back and say, _"don't be ashamed,"_ but his stony-grey eyes will tell a different story; one of sadness. 

Whatever happens, Keith wants no part of it; but he finds himself stuck,  _frozen,_ unable to move. 

Then. Then, Allura opens her mouth and Keith waits,  _waits,_ but nothing comes out, and suddenly Pidge goes, "well, now that we've got our friendship bracelets done, who's down for some Mario Kart?"

Keith blinks.  _Nothing._ His heart beats even faster, mind scrambling to catch up;  _why?_ Why are they acting as if... everything is normal? As if Keith didn't just make the most pathetic sound in the world? As if Keith didn't just  _giggle and laugh?_

As if they don't care?

As if it's  _okay._  

Lance cheers and says something about beating Pidge while she's weakened, but Keith doesn't really hear it. Someone, Hunk maybe, asks him if he wants a controller and he shakes his head; he's never grown up with video games and he's not sure if he can play right now. Game music begins, and he's somehow made it to the couch. There's warmth, all around him, above, and he's reminded of his first night at Silver, drinking in the sounds of the apartment around him, trying to feel like a part of something. Trying to feel  _alive._

Shiro's familiar, cool hand gently rests on his shoulders, and that's how he knows that it's him who's whispering in his ear a minute later:  _"Do you need some time?"_

Keith looks up to see the sight of Pidge, Lance, Matt, and Hunk all with controllers, Allura practically on Lance's back while cheering loudly as they try to mess each other up through unsavory methods. 

"Get your foot away from me!" Hunk says while shoving Lance, who cries in victory while shoving his socks into the other's face. 

"I'm... fine, actually," Keith mumbles,  _whispers,_ so quiet he's not even sure if Shiro hears it. If it was imagined. 

But he must have said  _something,_ because Shiro's hand leaves and his brother leans close, like a pillar, and Keith melts into it, feeling both numb and incredibly overwhelmed at the same time. 

* * *

Pidge thanks him before they all leave. The Holts actually offer for them to stay until dinner again, but Keith has pushed his limits on human interaction for the day and feels himself shaking his head, stiff like a robot, and moving to slip on his battered sneakers. 

He expects someone, at least Shiro, to talk to him about it, but surprisingly everyone simply says their farewells and goes back home. Shiro says he'll stay at the shop to take inventory, and that's how Keith finds himself walking home alone, the night sky hanging overhead. 

It's strange, and time seems to suddenly speed up. He's walking; then he's home, and undressed, and in bed. He stares up at the sword lilies Allura got him; a majority of them have grown bright and beautiful, but he spots two flowers wilted, most likely from overwatering, and Keith wonders which one he is. The bracelet is a heavy weight on his wrist, but he doesn't take it off, doesn't  _want_ to take it off. 

And that's how he goes to sleep, thinking of flowers and charms and  _words._

* * *

Keith dreams of a mirror.

It's cracked, dirty, and the only thing reflected back is a star in space. Keith flinches upon seeing it.

Red is there on top of the mirror, tail swinging back and forth.  _Have you figured it out?_ she seems to be asking.

"I'm a bit busy to be interpreting dreams," Keith says. Then, randomly, "I talked and laughed today."

_I know,_ she says. 

"It was..." And Keith trails off, because he doesn't know what to say. 

Red purrs, bringing his attention back to the mirror. The star, Keith realizes slowly, isn't still; it's dying. Keith dryly wonders if this is a metaphor for his life; now that the others have heard him, will they expect him to be like that always? Will they expect him to start speaking? And will he crumble under that weight, slowly crushed inwards, sucking in debris and dust until he's exploded, destroying everything around him? 

It's morbid, it's  _terrifying,_ but it's a possible reality; and really, the thought of everything around him breaking apart (like always,  _like always)_ is what has him waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding. He hasn't had a dream like that in a while; in fact, he had forgotten that he had been dreaming in the first place, distracted by getting accustomed to the Lion's Den. 

_Darkness,_ he recalls faintly,  _means change._ A mirror reflecting his true magic, though... that's new. 

A part of him wonders if Hunk would be better at interpreting this kind of thing. Most likely yes, but is he comfortable enough to share something like this with him?

Surprisingly, he finds himself thinking,  _yes, definitely._

Abruptly, the mirror completely cracks into two; Red, alarmed, growls and jumps. The shattered glass shards become coals, sparking as they hit the ground and causing a blazing fire to roar around him. Keith yelps, but the heat begins to suffocate him, and he can't breathe  _can't breathe—_

_—_ and he wakes up, feeling relieved and terrified.  

"I'm... " he whispers hesitantly into the darkness. Then, louder,  _"I'm too"_ — tired for this, he wants to say, but his voice cracks and crumbles completely. He trails his scar with a finger and hums, realizing no matter how broken it sounds it doesn't hurt. Meaning, it doesn't  _feel_ wrong. It just  _sounds_ wrong. 

It just  _is._

And for the first time in a long, long while, Keith begins to cry.

He's glad, then, that he doesn't have a roommate. It's not even loud; he can barely bring himself to be louder than a whisper (because really, old habits die hard) but his cheek sting all the same. What he's crying for, he's not sure; but he recognizes disappointment curling hot in his stomach, and Keith realizes he never really believed that he could lose his voice like  _this._ Being mute was his choice; and he knew, deep down, with enough time and effort he might even speak again.

But now he knows, it'll never quite be the same. The scars from his past will always be there; a constant reminder of that night, of the car crash. 

At one point, he finally stops his tears, feeling even more exhausted than he was before. His clock reads that he only has four hours until he has to wake up again. 

_I wish,_ he thinks, before drifting back into a dreamless sleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Keith will stay happy one day, but this is not that day. Hope everyone's doing better than Keith.


	7. “what should I do?” I wanna be done with myself, all I can do is run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... at lot happens in this chapter, and I hope none of it feels rushed;;; this has been sitting unpublished for a while and i finally got around to wrapping it up, but it still feels incomplete. But as always, if I keep pushing it off it'll never get published so here we are. I hope this chapter does justice to convey the feelings and atmosphere I wanted to portray. 
> 
> WARNING: there is a scene portraying a cemetery/ talking about death. it starts from "Shiro's birthday is a time of both..." to "...purpose in life" , so if that triggers you please be careful!

"So, let me get this straight... recurring motifs are darkness, a lion, and fire?" 

Outside, vicious winds beat against the windows and rattle the overhead lights of the Lion's Den. It seems as if winter is still clutching on ("Six more weeks of this shit," Lance had said sadly on groundhog's day, and while Keith usually thought the holiday was somewhat of a joke he supposed the small, furry animal was correct this year) and is desperate to go out with a bang, resulting in frigid temperatures and the  _worst_ weather conditions Keith has seen in a long time. 

Inside the Lions' Den, though, it's cozy, especially with the carefully tended-to fireplace. Keith had decided to read during his break time, which reminded him of the dream book he had been reading, which  _also_ reminded him that he should probably ask Hunk about his dreams. Now, as they both sit comfortably on the couch, Lance whistles and goes about purifying a necklace an old lady said was cursed. Pidge sits across from them, feet up on the little table while working on her latest charm. 

For the past few days, Keith has been feeling — confused and lost, to lightly put it. He was incredibly anxious after that day at Pidge's house, but nobody had brought the incident up since then, not even Pidge when she came back. Not that he's complaining, or anything, but he keeps jumping a bit every time someone addresses him. He sees it in everyone's eyes; curiosity and questions burning in their every movement, speculations whirling in their minds as they interact with him. They're kind enough to not ask anything outright, of course, but Keith is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his voice can no longer go back to what it used to be. He doesn't know how to express that he feels as if he's taken steps forward  _and_ backward and he has no idea where he stands now. 

But things have definitely changed. And it's exhilarating and terrifying and Keith just feels a bit in over his head.  

Keith, a bit lost in his thought, hums in affirmation to Hunk's question and freezes when he realizes what he's done. And Hunk freezes a bit at the noise, but doesn't say anything. Acts as if this is Normal. Taking an extra second to make sure Hunk won't freak out on him or anything, Keith leans in a bit closer to his warmth and wonders how Shiro managed to meet such wonderful people. 

"Okay, well, those things can mean different things in different contexts. But generally, lions are symbols of strength and courage. If the lion interacts with you, it might mean it's acting as some sort of... guardian? Or it could be a premonition saying that your strength and courage will be tested soon. Fire, i'm just gonna guess, is related to your magic. You mentioned wind and debris too, which could represent your spirit going through hardships." Hunk pauses, taking a deep breath. Keith clings onto the other's words carefully, absorbing them. "I'd be easier for me to interpret if you let me catch one of your dreams."

Keith tilts his head.

"Here, just— hold on a sec."

Hunk gets up and moves to the back of the room, rummaging around the back bookshelves before bringing out a dusty dream-catcher. Despite its old age, Keith's eyes are immediately drawn to the intricate weaving patterns and the ornate beads that hang from the outer ring. The earthy-green fabric lined with silver webbing shines a bit under the hanging lights.

"I haven't used this one in a while, sorry. I'll fix it up for you, and if you want you can hang it over your bed in the night. Then bring it in when you can, alright? You'll know if it caught a dream if the strings change from silver to gold."

Like aura-reading, he's only read about dream catchers. All he knows about them is that it takes a lot of skill and time to create them, and that he's not surprised that Hunk is experienced in what's considered to be one of the hardest skills to master for a magic-user.  _They're geniuses, all of them,_ Keith thinks, and a part of him wonders if it was fate for all of them to be brought together like this; six, seven if you count Coran, extremely talented people, bunched up in a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. 

Keith nods to Hunk to tell him that he understands, a soft  _thank-you_ bubbling up from the back of his throat. It comes up acidic though, and Keith misses his chance to say anything at all when Hunk turns away to his own work again. He feels himself deflate a bit — he still has a part of him that hopes, maybe, after the other night it might be easier to just  _say_ something in these moments. But deep down, Keith knows it's never that simple, at least when it comes to  _him._

He tries to recall Shiro's famous words to reassure himself.  _Patience yields focus —_ time, it always takes time. Not now, but soon. 

* * *

Before Keith even realizes it, the month goes by.

Lots of things happen, but it all blends together into one, giant blur. At one point, he finally gets a hug from Hunk (and yes, they are as good as people say) and tries out his legendary brownies (also up to par with the praise he's only heard about). Lance invites all of them to his beach shack when the weather gets warmer, and the thought of being with these people for that  _long_ — all the way until summer — has him feeling strange. Allura introduces Keith to her pet mice, whose names Keith cannot remember at all (except for Platt, the biggest one). Coran disappears mysteriously for one week but then returns with rare jewels that Shiro uses to make a few charms to add to all their "friendship" bracelets. Keith, of course, chooses the one with bright-red rubies. His humming becomes a regular thing, and somehow everyone eventually learns when he's saying  _yes,_ or  _no,_ or,  _i'm thinking_ just by his tone and body movements. In fact, the amount of times he has to pull up a piece of paper or use his magic to clarify himself is becoming less and less. 

Keith, despite himself, finds himself getting used to it all.

* * *

Shiro's birthday is a time of both joy and grief. 

Of course, he's happy to celebrate anything to do with his brother, but seeing as it's also the day of the accident, where they both lost their parents but also an arm and and a voice respectively, it's not exactly a fun time either. He knows Shiro always tries to stay positive, but there is always, always a sort of quiet reflectiveness about him during the day as they're both reminded of the anniversary of a death _and_ a life. 

It's bittersweet, almost, except there's nothing really romantic about it at all. On the last day of February (and this time it really is Shiro's true birthday) Keith wakes up with a familiar ache in his throat, the one that comes with physical pain, not a psychological one, and he wonders how Shiro ever got over their deaths. He wonders if Shiro blames himself, the same way Keith carries his own weight from his time at the orphanage. Because Keith knows the feeling of having something as innocent as a birthday tainted by death and sorrow. 

Getting dressed is less of a hassle than he thought it would be. The Lion's Den really does pay nicely — it's nothing to brag about, but compared to what he had gotten from the Arena and a few odd jobs, it's  _heavenly —_ and it feels strange, almost, putting on a new, black turtleneck and nice, clean jeans, right along with his old gloves and worn nullification charms. For a moment, he lets himself imagine what his mother would say about him. What his father would think of him. Would they like his longer hair? Would they be disappointed in the fact that he became an Arena player? He had only known them for a fraction of the time they knew Shiro, but still. 

Would they be proud of him? 

He's not perfect, far from it, but in terms of acting like a somewhat-functioning adult he's really gotten better over the past few months. Eating three meals a day, sleeping (somewhat) on schedule, remembering to do thinks like laundry and paying for bills (okay, well, the latter is something Shiro helps him do, but  _hey_ at least he's doing it) — he feels... fresh. 

(He hopes they'd be proud of him). 

Keith doesn't have a car, or any mode of transportation besides walking, really, so Shiro comes early at dawn to pick him up. He hasn't been alone with his brother in a long while, but he's glad that for now, it's just _them._ There's no new people or things to learn about, no need to try to hide his magic. Shiro is safe, has  _always_ been safe, with a gentle power that perfectly goes against Keith's, and he's never been more glad that there are no words needed, not really, when it's like this. 

"We'll get there in about thirty minutes," Shiro says before turning on the radio. Keith looks out the window and looks at the sky and thinks about his hometown, where their parents lie. 

He thought he was doing good by leaving the place where he grew up, leaving the Garrison, leaving  _Shiro._ It was dangerous for him to be around, and even when he was trying his hardest it felt almost impossible to try to control his own magic. And it didn't help that it flared up with his emotions — when a teacher had talked shit about Shiro and how he only got into the prestigious Altea Academy courses using underhanded methods, well... after that, he had been expelled. 

It was almost too much of a coincidence, really, when he ran into a powerful witch — more powerful than him — who called herself Haggar only two days into living on the streets, too anxious to go back home with his entire future ruined. She offered things from Keith's wildest dreams; a safe place to practice using his magic, where being strong meant respect, not fear. A way to earn money without needing any form of higher education. 

And most importantly, a way to put a lock onto his magic. 

A curse, she said, would be the only way for someone like him. It wouldn't even hurt, because his magic was that plentiful. And he'd still be able to use his abilities, but of course, it would be on manageable levels. He could break the curse anytime he wanted by verbally stating he wanted to be quit. 

If Shiro, or anyone he knows, really, heard about what Keith had done, they probably would panic. The entire situation was sketchy,  _too_ perfect. During the entire process Keith had felt a deep pool of dread in his stomach. Curses were created with ill intent, and even if could only be mastered by a few, they were well known for having disastrous effects. At best they were annoying, and at worst they were life-threatening — and with a curse like _magic restraint,_ it could certainly hurt someone if used incorrectly. 

But Keith had been so  _desperate._ Who cared if this person strangely knew the exact way to appeal to him? Who cared if he might not actually be able to cancel the curse in a time of need? Who cared if Arena fighting was considered illegal? He was tired of living in fear of himself everyday. He wanted to be  _happy._ To  _fit in._ If a curse and commitment to stage-fighting a few people every now and then was the cost, then Keith would take it. 

He wonders now if Haggar was really all that she said she was, because having her curse definitely helped him have control over his magic — but he still needs a multitude of separate nullification stones and charms to keep it under wraps, not to mention it can still flare to dangerous levels when he's riled up. But doubting it now won't do anything, Keith supposes, because what's done and done and he definitely wouldn't be standing where he is if it weren't for Haggar. 

Sitting next to Shiro, though, Keith thinks about what his life might have been like if he had just stayed home. He doesn't regret his decisions, because thinking about the past and what-ifs has him feeling empty and jaded rather than mournful, but he can't help but wish something like this, his life  _now,_ had come just a bit earlier. 

At one point the roads turn wonderfully yet awfully familiar. Streets, shops, and buildings he's grown up with come up and that's when Keith realizes it's been a while since he's truly visited his hometown. Trees still bare are lined evenly in front of the small, quaint houses with chipped paint and empty grassfields, but there are new lawn decorations. The bagel shop he used to frequent is no longer there; in fact there are a handful of new stores that make the main streets they pass seem somewhat foreign.

When they drive past where the old orphanage used to be, now replaced by a small bakery, Keith flinches and looks away. 

He remembers why he wanted to get out of town so badly for college. Too many memories, too many  _feelings,_ and he feels nostalgia and regret swirl within him dangerously, and it isn't until Shiro slows down a bit and pats Keith's shoulder that he remembers where he is and cools down a bit. His fingers twitch with the urge to light on fire; to blow and expand into dense balls of gas, but he bites his lips and pushes it all down. 

The cemetery, though, hasn't changed, and Keith finds himself somewhat glad. 

They enter with no troubles, and Keith finds his feet moving instinctively as his attention wanders. They don't need to walk far, but it feels like ages before they reach the two headstones. For a while it is silent between them, no movement. Then Shiro lets out a breath, and it's like the slingshot has been released; Shiro brings out a photograph of their mom and dad, when they were younger. Recently married, if Keith had to guess, but both look incredibly happy, with wide smiles in dress-casual clothes at someone's backyard. Keith brings out the blanket they packed and they both sit. 

"Hi mom. Hi dad," Shiro starts. He begins talking — rambling, really — but it becomes background noise as he stares at the still-ungrown grass underneath him.

Keith remembers their first meeting. It was a rainy day, and he had been trying not to get wet under smelly cardboard boxes to the side of an old bakery at the corner of the road. He's not doing a very good job of it, as the ash that had covered his arms and legs are completely gone now, washed away down some drain. He wonders what he must look like — a child with stick legs and scrawny arms that make him look ten, not thirteen. Ragged hair that tangles and tapers just above his shoulders. A few adults stop by, concerned, but when they see his glowing hands and obvious lack of control over them as he sets off small explosions against the asphalt under him, they leave hurriedly. 

He wonders if anyone has made the connection yet. If the police will ever find him, arrest him for his crimes. 

"Mom!" he hears someone whisper a bit too loudly, long after he's woken up and scrounged around for breakfast.He doesn't need to look to know he's being pointed at. 

Keith does his best not to flinch when he feels eyes on him, feels footsteps approaching. He takes a deep breath looking up with a ferocious snarl.  _Get away from me,_ he wants to scream. 

"Hi," the same voice starts. Keith bites his lips as the boy in front of him pulls his umbrella a bit forward, protecting him from the rain. The stranger is older than him, but not old enough to be an adult or anything. His hair is cropped, nicely-cut, and behind him stands a short woman who he assumes is the mom looks warily. 

When Keith doesn't respond, the stranger tries to lean forward, which — which has him scrambling backwards in panic. His palms scratch against concrete as they light up, barely containing the life and death of the stars that fall from his fingers.

"Woah, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," the stranger says. And in that moment, Keith had hated him. The hopeful, kind look in his eyes. The naive smile of his mother. Keith, back then, was convinced that nice people didn't,  _couldn't_ exist. If they did, they wouldn't talk to someone like  _him._

What would have happened to him if Shiro hadn't offered his hand? If his mom and dad didn't help him after figuring out who he really was? Looking at their headstones, Keith wonders if they ever regret it. Regret  _him._

 _Either way,_ Keith thinks, _it doesn't quite matter now, does it? Whatever they thought, it happened, and now they're gone._ And Keith will always be grateful for that — for being given a second chance.

So he closes his eyes, and prays for the people who gave him a purpose in life. 

* * *

During the ride back, Shiro takes a good look at Keith; he isn't sure what he finds, but whatever it is has him talking. 

"Thank you for coming with me," his brother starts after a moment. "I know coming back... _here_  isn't fun for you."

Keith lets out a small snort.  _If it's for our parents, of course I'd come back,_ he thinks.

"And I know being around people isn't easy for you either," Shiro continues, "but I'm glad you stuck around the Lion's Den. I'm happy you're happy, Keith. Being with you is one of the best birthday gifts I could get, so again... thank you."

If this were any other day, Keith would have scoffed and felt second-hand embarrassment from how sappy his brother could be. He was always trying to give Keith motivational speeches, imparting his "wisdom." _But today_ _is Shiro's birthday,_ Keith relents,  _and the day of our parent's death. Being sappy is a given for someone like Shiro._

Shiro, whose heart is big enough to help anyone in need and strong enough to support all his friends. Shiro, is older brother and only family member left. Shiro, the one who gives Keith a reason to wake up everyday. 

 _I'm glad that I get to be with you too,_ Keith thinks, and if Shiro picks up on it all he does is smile as the radio plays on. 

* * *

_Why the fuck are we going to work on a day like this?_

Keith had been looking forward to being dropped off at his home, giving his present to Shiro in private, and sleeping for the rest of the day. Visiting their parents had been emotionally and physically draining enough, and he could only handle so much interaction before needing to rest. But Shiro doesn't stop when they pass the street of apartments, and when he shoots his brother a  _look_ all Shiro does is smile and say, "Allura said we can have tomorrow off, but today we have a special order so we're required to be there."

Which sounds absolutely  _awful._

But Shiro is acting like it's totally normal to work on your birthday  _and_ on the anniversary of a death, which shouldn't be a surprise. So Keith just slams the car door a bit harder than necessary instead of stomping his feet and groaning like he wants to, because he wants Shiro to have the least amount of stress possible. 

"Ah, don't be like that," Shiro says playfully when he notes Keith's crossed arms. "We're getting paid extra for this."

Before Keith can even question if the perk is worth it, Shiro opens the door and nudges him inside.

And he instantly tries to take a step back. Bright streamers hang from the lights, and balloons of all shapes and sizes fill the ceiling. The table near the back is taken up by a fairly large cake, which has perpetual-sparklers that read  _'HAPPY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY SHIRO.'_ An excess amount of chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles decorate the two tiers. Around the counters, which have been miraculously cleaned, are framed photos of everyone together — Lance and Hunk summoning a small spirit together, Pidge sleeping on the couch, Allura and Coran discussing something over a clipboard. Keith hunched over himself, working on his carvings. A lot of Shiro, doing things from interacting with customers to trying to cover up the hole in the wall with tape. Each one captures a small, bright moment; candid shots that showcase aspects of their personalities. The floating lanterns are all charmed to glow black and white, Shiro's favorite aesthetic. Everyone is gathered around the cake, wearing party hats you'd find at a child's birthday party. 

"Uh—"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIRO!" Everyone shouts simultaneously. Confetti decides to fly out from behind them at that moment. Lance has a little noisemaker that he won't stop using. 

It's all incredibly... sweet. Keith hates it. Shiro loves it. 

"I—What... what about the shop?" Shiro starts weakly.

"Oh please, did you really think I would make you work on a day like this?" Allura says, giggling. Shiro just looks dumbfounded as Hunk excitedly gestures for the two of them to come in. 

 _"Why did you set this up like some sort of kid's birthday party? Shiro's 28"_ Keith hurridly writes out to Pidge while Shiro is attacked by Lance with an extra set of party hats and noisemakers. 

Pidge just raises an eyebrow. "Uh, no? Shiro just turned seven, dude." 

Keith decides not to ask any more questions after that. 

They sing the happy birthday song. Give Shiro presents that are brightly wrapped. Constantly say, "congrats on turning seven! You're a big boy now!" and giggle as Shiro struggles between giving into the childish humor or demanding actual respect. Keith is feeling a bit overwhelmed and out of place, but seeing the bright look on Shiro's face makes him begrudgingly grateful for it all. 

It's when they decide to move onto games (somehow, Pidge has turned a section of the walls into a flatscreen TV and has a multitude of classics hooked up to it) that Keith wonders if he should give his present to Shiro  _now,_ in front of all these people. He feels a fleeting sort-of nervousness at the thought of it. But it's not like he wants to give it to him  _later,_ because he wants to ride off the good atmosphere and he's not sure if he'll have the courage to do it when everything is over.

Keith holds his present tightly in his hand, it almost crinkles under the pressure of his fingers. He's not quite sure how Lance picks up on his nervous mood, because there's a party vibe in the air and Lance is at the center of it, but while everyone is watching an intense battle between Allura and Pidge on Super Smash Bros the other gives him a friendly wave and asks, "you okay?"

He nods, smiling a bit and showing Lance what he has in his hands. 

"Aw," Lance continues, quiet but teasing. "Are you nervous about giving your gift to Shiro? He's your brother, he'll love it for sure."

Keith shakes his head, then points to his mouth and makes a talking motion with the other hand.  _I'm going to speak,_ he's saying. 

Lance's eyes widen for a second before smoothing into a supportive smile. "Well, this probably doesn't mean much, but  _I_  believe in you."

And this is  _Lance,_ just another person who doesn't quite understand why Keith doesn't speak, not fully at least, but Keith still feels a warmth at the genuineness in the other's expression. He's been practicing in front of the mirror for weeks now. Talking normally, having full conversations still feels like something so far away but — just this once, for his brother, who he trusts, who he knows is safe... yeah, he can do it. He  _wants_ to do it. 

He taps Shiro's shoulders and motions to the back of the room, requesting some private time. Shiro, picking up on his nervousness, immediately turns serious as they go to a corner, next to the fireplace. Lance looks back and gives Keith thumbs up, and it's so silly he almost wants to laugh.

"What's wrong?" Shiro begins, worried. "Do you need to go home? I can —"  
  
Keith stops his brother by thrusting the wrapped package from his pocket forward.

"Happy birthday, Shiro," he whispers out before he loses the nerve. His words are soft, like that night at Pidge's place, not to mention the 'd' sound in 'birthday' doesn't quite come out  _right,_ but Shiro lights up immediately, a complete contrast to his face at the cemetery, and Keith wishes he could do this sort of thing more often.

"Oh— _Keith,_ " Shiro starts, and what he doesn't expect next is to be  _hugged._ And his first instinct is to tense up, but feeling warm, sturdy arms around him (the same as all those years ago) has him slowly relaxing. Keith hopes he'll like the gift — it's a photograph of the two of them when they were younger, and for once Keith is grinning brightly with a beach ball in his hands as Shiro chases him. It's a precious memory, one he had completely forgotten until he found it underneath his sparse belongings while looking for something else. The frame it's in is something he carved himself, laced with intricate designs that hide lions and roses and magic. He even got Hunk and Lance to imbue some spirits of protection and happiness into it. 

"Today really is one of my best birthdays yet," Shiro says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.

 _I'm glad,_ Keith thinks.  _I'm glad you're so happy, Shiro. You deserve it._

* * *

 

He shouldn’t be surprised that things are beginning to fall apart. He really, _really_ _shouldn’t,_ but it still hurts when it does.

It happens suddenly, in the form of an emergency job merely two days into March. It ends with exhaustion and magical  _and_ physical fatigue, which sounds like normal things, but to someone like Keith, has never really happened before. 

It goes like this: a young mother with an old photograph which has old, lingering bad-luck magic wants it to be purified. And nothing they seem to be doing is working.

“For the last time, I don’t want to _ruin_ the picture!” Lance exclaims throwing his arm up at Pidge. The seashells on his bracelet clink together. “This thing is like, fifty years old. Getting it wet is going to destroy it.” 

“But none of my hexes seem to work, and even Hunk’s purification stones aren’t working. Heck, if we can’t even get _Shiro_ to identify what’s lingering around in there, what we need is an all-out _cleansing,”_ Pidge says just as harshly.

“Uh, guys,” Hunk starts timidly, “maybe we can try another day?”

“Or we could wait for Coran,” Allura adds. “He’s awfully sharp on these things. He should be done with his appointment today around dinner?”

 _“No,_ we can’t,” Lance scowls. Keith hears thunder in the distance. “This woman wants it to be done by four, for some sort of anniversary scrapbook or whatever. We can’t wait around for other people.”

Keith shifts uncomfortably. He's never really seen Lance get so dedicated to a job that he gets frustrated. Hunk is sending Lance concerned yet exasperated looks, which makes Keith think this sort of thing is a common occurrence, at least between the two of them.  
  
Allura sighs at that, twisting her hair in between her fingers. “I’m afraid none of us really have the magic to properly handle the situation. I'm terribly sorry.”

For a second, Keith thinks Lance is going to yell again, but surprisingly he simply lets out a silent breath and shakes his head. “There’s still one of us that hasn’t tried yet.”

Keith realizes who Lance is talking about at the same time Shiro does.

“Lance,” Shiro says, as soon as Keith tenses. “Don’t you think fire is going to ruin the picture too?”

 “For water-based purification to work, the water needs to directly touch the object. But in fire-based purification, it can just burn away the parts that are inflicted. If I lead Keith through it, it’ll be fine. My sight allows me to see where exactly the cursed area is, even if I can’t really tell _what_ that curse is.”

 Shiro falters at that and gives Keith an apologetic look.  _I tried,_ he seems to be saying.

 _I’m not good at manipulating my magic in that way,_ he writes out honestly, desperate to find an excuse. _And I don’t work well with connection magic._  First of all, he’s never practiced his magic in that way (it’s always been about _control, control, control),_ and second of all, ever since he started trying to actively nullify his magic, doing anything other than letting out a basic input of magic has been difficult. Purification requires an intense amount of effort. 

And thirdly, most people can’t handle his magic to connect with him in that way.

“Don’t worry about it! I won’t connect fully — just enough to guide you.”

Keith just narrows his eyes.

“Look, we don’t really have any other options,” he sighs. “Would it make you feel better if Shiro was close by to nullify your magic if things get out of hand?”

Keith nods stiffly after a moment of hesitation. There’s really no reason for him to refuse. It’s his job. _Just my job,_ he repeats to himself, like a mantra. _Lance has literal water magic. And Shiro will be right there. If something goes wrong, they’ll stop it before it gets out of hand._

Lance walks over to Keith on the couch, handing over the black-and-white photograph. It depicts a young couple, one in a simple dress, the other wearing a suit, looking at each other lovingly in some sort of grassy area.

It feels just a bit wrong, burning it up. But before Keith can protest any more, Lance places a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

Like a sudden wave, he feels the other’s magic immediately. Keith, for a moment, is overwhelmed. He feels both of their magics; Lance's is smooth, swift, truly like a current of a rushing river, sparking waves and rolling foam showing the power underneath it all. His own feels  _strange,_ wrong, and he understands why his aura was so conflicting to Lance — it's because of the curse, he realizes, which wouldn't be detectable without knowing it existed. It blends in as a twisted, pulsing thing that entraps anything that might show his true nature underneath, sucks up every particle of gas and stardust until you can't see it. It eats away at his very being, and Keith wonders how he can't feel it wriggling around him all the time. 

He also senses everyone around the room, in a distant sort of way, even if his eyes are closed. This connection only lasts a split second, but it's overwhelming enough to have his fingertips begin to spark harmlessly.  

Then, something guides his magic and prevents it from bubbling up like it usually does. The strange sensation fades, and Keith finds himself back in his body. A deeper part of him, though, is still attuned to things he’s never seen or felt before, and he swears he can feel shadows clinging to the photograph in his hand.

Something… isn’t right. His magic strains with the effort, as one force pulls him towards the dark energy while another pulls away from it. The entire thing keeps shifting in an out of focus, like a blurred camera lens. But in a moment of clarity, Keith doesn’t hesitate to reach in and give one last _tug,_ and then he physically _feels_ the darkness from the picture ( _a curse,_ he distantly realizes) weaken a bit. His magic takes advantage of that instinctively — or maybe it's Lance, moving it along — and he finds himself shuddering as his flames change from their usual orange-red to a blazing white that consumes the darkness of the curse on the picture. 

For a second, he’s afraid his fire will eat up at his own curse as well, as it doesn't seem to _stop_ and his throat is beginning to  _burn, burn, burn,_ but as promised, Shiro’s hand rests on his other shoulder and Keith finds himself being thrown back into reality. 

He looks down, and sees a shiny photograph, but it is no longer black and white — _color,_ he thinks numbly. It’s so bright and saturated he wonders if his magic had anything to do with it.

“Christ, Keith,” he hears Pidge say, taking the picture out of his hand. “She wanted a simple purification, not fucking _restoration._ Did they even _have_ colored photos back then?”

“I mean, as long as whatever was on it is gone, I’m sure she’ll be happy. Good job, Keith," he hears someone (Allura?) distantly say, but the only thing going through his mind is,  _what the fuck? My magic is the creation of stars, not_ restoration.

He feels some sort of old panic rise within him. 

“Yeah! I _knew_ you could do it,” Lance says, unaware of how _dizzy and tired_ Keith feels. “You aura is too weird for you to have just simple magic.”

Before he can respond, Keith blinks and finds himself falling over. While bracing for impact onto the floor, Keith realizes maybe his magic  _did_ burn off some of his own curse, because his body is lighter than he remembers it feeling, with more magic than usual running through his veins. 

_Is the curse fading?_

He feels sick at the implications of what that means. There’s no way the over-powered witch’s curse is failing after all this time, because no matter how terrible Haggar is, her magic is not something to be messed with. 

But then again, he's never had to really use his magic, except when fighting, and even then that doesn't require him to do much. _R_ _estoration magic,_  though _?_ That takes a lot more _energy_ to do. Especially if he shouldn't be able to do it in the first place. And it's enough energy, apparently, to break a bit of Haggar's curse. 

Like a leak, Keith shudders as flames run up and down inside his arms, desperate to get that sense of control back.

 _Fuck, why now? Of all times?_

(A part of him thinks he knows exactly _why._ And that same part of him thinks there’s more to this than he’s realizing. But there’s no time to think about that now.)

He feels strong arms catch him (Shiro), a voice asking what’s wrong (Allura) and a close presence that radiates worry (Lance). But Keith realizes while he's consciously awake, his body isn't responding. He’s moved, a bit roughly, to the couches and once he falls into the pillows his dizziness begins to fade. 

“Sorry!” he hears Lance exclaim. “I, uh— was _not_ expecting that to happen. I shouldn’t have pushed him like that… I thought, well—“

“It’s okay,” he hears Shiro say when Lance’s voice increases in pitch. But it’s obvious, at least to Keith, that Shiro doesn’t fully believe his words. Not that he’s _mad_ at Lance, but rather, he’s worried for Keith. “I… I’m not sure what happened though.”

“Me neither. He was doing fine, but a few seconds after we I let go his aura just suddenly went a little crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Lance continues. “It looks better now, but something about it is… different.”

“Do you think it’s hurting Keith?” Shiro asks. It takes a second for Lance to answer.

“I… maybe? Sorry, Shiro, I really don’t know…”  

And that's the last thing he hears before drifting into darkness. 

* * *

When Keith wakes up, his apartment feels cold, even with the floating lights.

Everyone had basically dragged him home and given him an indefinite amount of days off after the initial scare. The first day, Shiro had come early in the morning with breakfast, as if sensing that Keith’s fridge was pretty empty. He left for work soon after, although he promised he would be back with everyone else at the end of the day with gifts similar to Pidge’s when she was sick.

And on any other day he would have been looking forward to that, but Keith was incredibly tired and sluggish that day, and wasn’t too keen on interacting with others. 

So an hour before the Lion’s Den closed, he texted Shiro saying that he wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to see anybody.

Keith could basically _feel_ the disappointment from everyone when Shiro sent a sad face emoji and said that they could come over whenever he was feeling up to it, and that Pidge started working together with Hunk to try and see what exactly went wrong with the picture. He had fallen asleep on his couch while eating some hot pockets he had found (hidden, of course, since Shiro would most likely cry at the sight of Keith eating only microwaveables) 

And now it’s the morning of day two. Keith could probably have slept through lunchtime, but a certain ringtone had woken him up around 11.

He never thought he would be hearing it again. But low and behold, his crummy second phone given to him by Haggar is vibrating. 

Someone is calling him.

 _Haggar_ is calling him. 

Somehow, although he can't quite remember the details, Keith gets up and finds his second phone. They don't like giving Keith an opportunity to speak, really, which is why they always  _call_ not  _text,_  and for a wild moment he imagines what i'd be like to just ignore it and go back to sleep; to crush the phone and stick up his middle finger to the Arena masters.

But then he remembers the reason why he joined in the first place, and feels like he's being choked by the air. 

It's with shaking fingers he presses the flashing, green button on his phone and puts it to his ear. 

 _"Paladin,"_ a hoarse voice says. A  _familiar_ voice.  _"I sense that my curse on you is weakening. Have you been straining yourself?"_

Keith stays very, very still. On the other end of the phone, the woman cackles. 

_"I'm afraid in order to refresh your curse, you must return. You've had long enough of a break, correct? Made enough friends?"_

_No,_ he wants to say, and his throat  _burns_ with the need to do anything,  _something,_ but he can't find it in him to even breathe. This is his worst nightmare come to life — the end of his happy little paradise. 

_"I'll take your silence as a yes. I will send you more details through text. And of course, failure to show up will end up in the termination of our... contract. You wouldn't want to hurt your new friends, would you?"_

And that's the end of that.

Keith sits there for who knows how long. He hates it. Hates how he's being controlled by her,  _bound_ to her. Hates that she always plays the right cards. Hates that he has to betray Shiro just to... keep him safe. And he especially,  _especially_ hates himself for being so weak, for letting himself care about these people so much. 

His phone vibrates with a new message, which reads an address not too far from where he is, and a time.  _7 pm._

He still feels tired, weak, and the thought of going back feels  _wrong._ But he thinks of what might happen if he disobey; if the curse broke and his true magic were unleashed. Nobody would be safe. He'd never let himself see Lance, Hunk, or  _any_ of them again. 

So he grits his teeth, and begins looking for his protective costume. 

Haggar wants him to play?

Then Keith is going to fucking  _play._

 


	8. calling out, I don’t make a sound, it’s too quiet in here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for the comments and kudos. every single one inspires me to write more and more this story. This time the title of the chapter comes from the lyrics for the song Quiet Room (Until now they were all from the song Never Lost Word). If you haven't already, i'd recommend checking the songs out! I listen to them while writing all the time. 
> 
> Things are progressing, though, folks! Hope you enjoy, and if you ever want to talk to me about my fic or about voltron in general, hmu at my tumblr @allu-ria!

The Arena Haggar wants him at is a fifteen minute walk away from the outskirts of Silver, and Keith wonders if it's been there since he moved or if it was built just for the sole reason to torture him. He wouldn't doubt either, as Haggar's cruelty and wealth has a bit of a reputation with the underground.

He's left his phone back at home, because everyone has been texting him the entire day and — he's not sure he can take it while going to the Arena. It feels  _wrong,_ somehow, and hopefully nobody questions the fact that he's supposedly going to sleep so early in the night. He wasn't exaggerating when he told them he was exhausted, though. The aftereffects of the whole restoration-thing are clinging to his skin like humidity on a summer day, making him feel sluggish and  _uncomfortable._ Keith wonders if it'll effect his performance. 

But hey, he was ranked number  _one_ for the last three seasons for a reason.  _I'll be fine,_ he tries to tell himself,  _just get it done, then get out. No need to make it complicated. You used to do this all the time._

(It's different _now_ , though, Keith realizes. Different because he has people to care about, and people who care about  _him._ People who want to see him do better,  _be_ better, than... whatever  _this_ is). 

His costume — and he's always hated this part of it, the  _publicity_ aspect — is artfully hidden underneath his clothes. And by that, it means he's just wearing a dark T-shirt and some long jeans over his bodysuit and hoping that nobody notices that he's walking to what seems like the middle of nowhere. The outskirts of Silver are pretty abandoned, with dry grass and crumbling roads no cars drive on. Which is something he should be grateful for, Keith guesses, because if there were cars he would definitely be noticed and questioned.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Keith sees the signature mark that shows the entrance to all Arenas; a Galra Gas station (one of the many branches of Galra Incorporated). How Haggar managed to get one of the world's largest corporations on her side is a mystery, but sure enough the only worker there takes one, good look at Keith before pointing to the convenience store behind.

"Code is 554," He says, before going back to looking on his phone. Keith just nods, and enters the dimly-lit building. As always, the padlock-protected room is right next to the staff bathrooms. From here, he can already feel the rumbling beat of music. 

He takes a deep breath, enters the code, and opens the door. 

It turns out the rumors are true — no matter what Arena you go to, it’ll always smell like sweat mixed with old laundry. Keith wrinkles his nose as he takes a tentative step forward into the barely-lit darkness, which reveals a narrow staircase leading downwards. The door closes behind him with a heavy  _bang,_ leaving Keith feeling like he's walking into a trap.  

At the bottom of the stairs, there's a bodyguard. "Name and ticket?"

Keith just pulls down his shirt a little, revealing one of his signature marks — a red V engraved right at his chest. 

"Welcome back, Paladin," the bodyguard nods, and Keith tries not to show how uncomfortable the name actually makes him as the door is opened for him. 

He walks through a little passageway, which opens up to the main room. It’s incredibly minimalistic — he knows Haggar makes loads of cash from this, yet she barely spends any of it on the actual Arena. The stage itself is just a raised platform of rock with crudely made stairs leading up to it. A wire mesh surrounds it, infused with nullifying magic to keep the audience safe if things get out of hand. Everything is the same, earth-brown color, except for the rusted over-worn bleachers which shine strangely against the walls. The hanging lanterns overhead are weak, barely casting light as they tumble around in the air.

Cameramen shuffle around, guiding microphones and other equipment before the match starts. Keith walks over to the opening to his left, which reads  _changing room._ Keith doesn’t have a locker here, but the room itself also serves as the entrance to the pit. Slipping a rubber band into his hair, Keith just sits on the old, wooden benches and looks into a mirror. 

His costume is just a black turtleneck bodysuit with a couple of red highlights. He also wears a bandana to cover his nose and mouth, along with gloves (not fingerless ones this time). He knows he looks thin in normal clothes, but with how tight-fitting his outfit is, it's easy to see all his lean muscles (or, where they used to be — he eyes the forming flabs in his arms disdainfully). His tied-up hair leaves only his bangs, which still annoyingly go into his eyes. 

Looking at the dirty mirrors around the room, Keith feels like he's looking at a different person. 

Someone walks into the changing room, then. Keith looks over to see a tall, buff figure with a purple mask which has glowing eyes. His armor seems to actually be an armor, which is surprising since most of the garments people wear here are just for show, and have little to no actual protective powers. A single charm hangs from his wrist, casting unnatural red on his skin.

“So, the  _Red_ _Paladin_  is actually here. I thought it was just a rumor,” he says once seeing Keith. 

Keith does not bother to respond. Intimidation is something he's very much used to. 

“Still mute, I see,” he says when the silence gets a bit too long. “Good for me, then. It’ll be so much more satisfying when I crush your puny head and make you _scream_ for mercy.”

 _Oh,_ _so he's my opponent,_  Keith realizes.Thankfully, he's only scheduled for one match tonight — but he knows it wont be long until Haggar tries to overload him. The longest he's ever done is fourteen fights in a row. He's actually surprised Haggar is being what he considers  _nice,_ and letting him have it easy on his first night back.

But, looking at the way this person stares at him (with  _bloodlust)_ he wonders if it really is a blessing at all. 

(Keith gets the strangest sensation that this person wants to  _kill)._

Despite the horrible feeling he's getting, Keith manages to keep his face impassive and rolls his eyes. He's been through enough fights to know this person is just trying to intimidate him, at least for now. He stands up, and begins to stretch — a clear sign of _‘I don’t care’_ and _‘I’m ignoring you.’_

“I’m Sendak,” the Arena player continues, undeterred. “Unfortunately, your comeback won’t last very long.”

Keith finally makes eye-contact with Sendak, and something shivers down his spine.  _Yep,_ he thinks, _H_ _aggar must have given me this dude for a reason._ He's never heard of the name before, meaning he's relatively new —  _also_ meaning Keith has no idea what magical ability he has,  _if_ he has any at all. 

_Just my luck, getting matched with a psychopath I don't know about on my first match in months._

“Nervous?” Sendak sneers, as if sensing his caution.

Keith’s expression twists into something akin to humor as he gets up from touching his toes. Sendak must see something he doesn't like in  _his_ face too, because for a second he seems uncertain. 

Good. Keith might be reluctant to be in _this_ kind of environment, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't thrive in dangerous situations. The thrill that comes with a boost of extra adrenaline,and relying only on his  _instincts_ — well, he's always had the best control over his abilities in these fights. There's something about being pushed to the edge that has him desperate enough to hold on and fend for himself. 

It's on the battlefield where he feels like he can control his strength the most. 

Well — that's what he  _thought,_ until the fight that caused him to take the break in the first place...

And he can still feel it if he thinks hard enough, the way panic and pure  _dread_ clogged up his throat as the audience's excited screams turned to genuinely terrified ones, fire and _gas_ rising up and up and  _up—_

 _“Match 19 with Paladin and Sendak is about to start,"_ a monotone voice calls over the scratchy intercom, bringing Keith back. _"Paladain, please move to the west entrance. Sendak, please move to the east entrance."_

Sendak smirks, apparently gaining his confidence back. “See you on stage, _Paladin._ _”_

Keith nods, and starts walking towards the opposite end to the entrance. Despite his earlier bravado, Keith finds himself faltering as he steps through the hallway and approaches the bright lights of the cameras and the familiar babble of the crowd. _I thought I would never come back, but here I am._

It just feels so _surreal._  

He takes a deep breath, then. Tries to keep Shiro’s words from long ago in mind. _Breathe in, keep calm. You’re stronger than they think you are._

What’s happening is clear — Haggar wants _something_ from him. Haggar wants to establish her control over him again.

But he has people in his life now. He’s reconnected to Shiro, and has all of Lion’s Den to fight for. He won’t fall for the same tricks as last time, wont let himself become some sort of puppet. 

With those thoughts in mind, Keith _breathes_ and takes a step forward.

* * *

One thing Keith doesn't miss at all — the freaking stupid  _announcers._

There's yet another body guard waiting for him as he emerges from the "pits", and the screams from the audience, while annoying, are more like background noise. The blinding lights, which used to be on his list of _Things I Absolutely Hate about Arena,_ is something he's gotten used to. The annoying reporters trying to get something juicy for their broadcasts can be ignored as well. 

The deep baritone that blasts from the speakers, though?  _Not_ that easy to ignore, especially when they're so  _loud and dramatic._

(Kind of reminds him of all the things he dislikes about Lance, but turned way  _way_ up in terms of intensity)

 _"Laaaaadies and Gentlemen,"_ he starts, dragging out the 'a' in a way that makes Keith flinch.  _"It's the moment you've been waiting for... the hero who shocked the_ world  _with his fiery temper..._ _The_ Red _Paladin!"_

When the light-spots from his eyes clear away, Keith realizes just how  _packed_ the audience is. Bleachers filled to the brim, at least ten different (illegal) news-stations with cameras, and, heck, people with their own chairs squeezed into any available ground space. 

 _Right,_ he remembers, _People are actually interested in my fights._

Keith remembers being relatively big in the Arena community, but other than being rather aggressive on the field he wasn't anyone _special._  Sure, maybe he had the title of the longest running streak for a while. Maybe he ranked within the top ten most popular Arena fighters one year. People had probably heard of  _Paladin_ if they watched something like Arena, but Haggar seemed to like keeping his popularity and screen-time rather short. 

And that had held true all the way until his  _Fight._

And ever since then, _everyone's_ heard about him, his stage name unoffically changing to  _Red Paladin_  instead of just _Paladin._ He's heard all the rumors — that he had been repressing his rage and had an some sort of long-lasting blood feud with his opponent. That he secretly was a sadistic person who loved bloodshed, and this wasn't the first time something like that had happened — just the first time media had managed to release it before the Arena masters could stop them. 

That his blood is fire. That he's not human. 

(Because he knows that humans normal don't have  _his_ kind of magic. Strong people exist, of course, but the ability to manifest fires so hot, so  _condensed_ they explode and not even get tired or scratched is something unheard of).

The thing is, with his time at the Lion's Den he's kind of forgotten about all of it. Forgotten about the sick, twisted feeling that comes with the reminder that there's something  _off_ about him, something even Haggar can't fully contain. 

But now,  _here,_ facing these people, he feels it all thrice-fold. 

 _"Facing the newest, but baddest, rookie Arena-fighter,_ Seeeennn _-daaaaak!"_  The announcer continues. " _He's got a couple of tricks — and knives — up his sleeve that'll rip you to shreds!"_

Compared to Keith's light steps as he makes his way onto the stage, Sendak seems to be deliberately trying to shake the ground, raising his hands up as the crowd cheers for him. Of course, its not as loud as it was when  _he_ was announced — and Sendak seems to realize this as they get into battle positions. He unsheathes a sword and twirls it around before pointing it at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Keith, in response, summons his own weapon with a snap of his fingers. He's almost afraid it'll be like  _that_ time, but thankfully the flames he conjures are a normal orange-red. He quickly wills it into a shape of a katana and twirls it around as well (and if he adds a bit of effects just to see Sendak squirm a bit, it's not  _his_ fault). 

 _"It looks like to-day, we'll have a classic sword-fight! Let's see how our old and new champions fare in this epic comeback Arena battle! In three... two...one... Be-_ gin!" 

And Keith immediately leaps forward, trying to get some sort of lead as fast as possible. He winces at the heaviness of his arms, a wave of exhaustion making him stumble a bit. He somehow manages to catch himself at the last second, swinging his katana before dropping down to dodge Sendak's sword. He jumps back to reset and attacks again, not letting the other rest. Sendak blocks most of Keith's messy attempts to get in  _something,_ and even if Keith is tired there's one thing that the past years of Arena fights has given him: _stamina_ — and Sendak, as a beginner simply doesn't have as much as Keith does.

The commentary of the announcer fades to background noise as Keith concentrates on not getting impaled. He does have to admit, Sendak is skilled with his sword; he wonders what it's made out of, or if it's been reinforced by some sort of magic, because usually Keith's fire melts away metal blades. 

"Eager to end this early, now are we?" Sendak says with a grin, becoming more confident as he blocks more and more of Keith's attacks. "Overconfidence will be your downfall,  _Paladin."_

 _Not my downfall,_ Keith thinks,  _but yours._ Every arena player has the same flaw — they always think they're  _stronger, better._ Keith used to be like that too, until he realized the best way to secure a win is to wait for the perfect moment. A stumble, lowered defenses,  _whatever_ it is, he just has to  _look_ for it. 

(Shiro taught him that —  _patience yields focus,_ he said. Keith feels a bit guilty for using his advice in a way it wasn't quite intended, but if it helps him stay on his feet he's sure Shiro won't mind... probably.)

A second later, Keith sees it: unbalanced feet in Sendak's posture. Wasting no time, Keith thrusts himself forward with the intent to maim. 

It feels as if the world slows in this moment. It's a perfect moment to strike; too perfect, really, and he should have  _realized_ he was being baited. Keith feels the ripple of magic before he sees it, hidden knives suddenly floating and moving forward at unnatural speeds as he rushes right at them. 

He wonders, then, if it's a blessing or a curse that he has such fast reflexes. 

Instinctively, Keith raises his arms to cover his face. Before he can stop himself, or try to control the output, his upper body bursts into red, hot flames so intense that the knives instantly melt. Sendak screams as his skin burns from the proximity, scrambling away from the flames that lick up Keith's arms in a frenzy. The crowd screams as well, both in fear and in surprise. 

 _"There you have it, folks!"_ he hears the announcer say,  _"the infamous_ red  _flames of the Paladin! Just look at that color!"  
_

Keith wishes he could unsee it. The first time he summoned flames as deep as this was during his infamous fight, and he had somewhat hoped that that would be the last time.  _I guess hoping wasn't enough,_ he dryly thinks.  _At least this time it's more contained._ These red flames is how his name changed from Paladin to  _Red_ Paladin, because Keith knows what natural flames are supposed to look like and  _these_ are anything but. It's not even a gentle red — it's  _dark and bright,_ like pooling blood.  _Demon flames,_ others call it, even if he insists he's  _never_ summoned one before. The tendrils begin licking up Keith's neck, and he tries to calm his racing heartbeat to extinguish them. He doesn't need to be burned like Sendak. 

 _Speaking of_ Sendak, Keith looks down to see his body curled on the ground. His armor has been melted off in multiple areas, and he winces at the sight of mottled skin underneath those spots. His breaths are exaggerated, and Keith, like an  _idiot,_ approaches him.

Maybe Keith is just masochistic.

"Take _THAT!"_ Sendak suddenly yells, twisting and throwing what Keith assumes is one of his last hidden knives. He's too close to even react now, and Keith stumbles backwards as the blade imbeds itself into his calf, digging deeper and deeper even though it should have lost all momentum. He feels the metal _bend_ inside, locking itself in place. With the amount of adrenaline coursing through Keith's veins, he barely feels it, but immediately Keith can tell it'll be a pain to take out later. 

It doesn't end there, though. Suddenly the netting around them begins to twist, closing in closer and  _closer_ and Keith—

—Keith just pushes Sendak off the stage. 

It's almost comical, really, the way Sendak falls. If he didn't just almost burn the man alive, Keith would be laughing. The second biggest fault of most arena members — in the heat of battle, they  _always_ forget the second way to win: by pushing the opponent off the stage. Sendak's face twists into something  _evil,_ and Keith immediately jumps away to avoid any more injuries. 

 _Relax,_ he tries to tell himself, feeling the rise of flames again.  _He can't do anything anymore. Not when he lost, and not in front of these cameras._

(With the way he's being looked at, though, he fears he might be found and murdered in his sleep. Sendak's body, with the burn marks which will  _definitely_ scar... Keith feels a mix of guilt and apprehension at the sight of it.  _I did this,_ he realizes,  _I did this and I could've killed him and now he probably wants to kill_ me)

_"—And there we have it folks! The Paladin still has it in him, and gains a thrilling victory against the blade master Sendak!"_

The crowd cheers, but as Sendak slowly crawls back to the changing rooms he can't help hold his head down in shame. 

* * *

The knife is still in him when he gets home. 

Technically they have medics, but Keith didn't let anyone touch his wounds after the fight, because he knows that sometimes they're bribed by bitter rivals to do the _opposite_  of their jobs. And Keith has plenty of bitter rivals that would  _love_ to see him bleed to death. He thinks, anyways. 

And so, Keith finds himself sitting in the apartment, blood dripping down his leg and pulsing with a kind of pain that makes him wonder  _how_ he even got home without fainting or someone seeing him. Moonlight filters through his dusty windows, illuminating the sorry state of his leg. Keith wonders if there's a way to cauterize his wound without burning himself. 

The sudden image of the entire apartment lit aflame has him second-guessing his thoughts. 

 _How do I do this without going to the hospital?_ He wonders to himself.  _I need someone to help me._

He imagines calling up Shiro and immediately banishes the idea. Someone else — someone who cares enough to help him, but won’t ask too many questions.

Lance, even if he's a healer, will definitely tell the others. Pidge... Pidge will ask too many questions. And Hunk, he knows, can't handle the sight of blood. Coran knows Keith’s past, and will connect the dots immediately.

And that leaves only one person Keith can go to.

With great difficulty, Keith finds his phone and begins texting Allura. 

* * *

The first thing Allura asks is, “how long has that been in there?”

No _hello,_ no _it’s been a while Keith,_ or  _are you feeling any better from your mysterious illness?_ Although if you text a friend saying you’ve been impaled and need help dressing the wound, he supposes there are more important things than greetings.

Keith looks at his wall clock, a bit dazed. It had taken Allura about 10 minutes to get here, and in that time Keith had simply rested on his sofa and tried to get as little blood as he could onto his furniture. His wound must be a lot worse than he thought, because it takes a solid second to think of an answer.

 _30 minutes,_ he writes out with his fire. It burns to use it, though, and he finds eyes beginning to close as soon as the flames extinguish.

“Oh _no,_ you are _not_ falling asleep on me,” Allura snaps, bringing Keith back. “Jesus Christ, Keith I… I’m not a healer like Lance. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

She gets to work quickly, somehow finding Keith’s first-aid kit, producing gauze and disinfectant.

"I'm going to touch it, okay?" she says before lightly placing a finger on the handle of the knife — and suddenly, the tattoos under here eyes begin to glow, and she stumbles backwards as if hit. Keith instinctively tries to get up, to do... well, he isn't quite sure what to do when Allura has visions, but the urge to help is still there. Forgetting about the  _knife_ in his  _leg,_ Keith manages to stand up for a respectable three seconds before falling backwards, helpless. 

" _Are—"_ is all he manages to spell out before Allura holds up her hand, making a motion for him to extinguish his magic. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. But I— I saw a fight," Allura begins slowly, "at what looks like an arena. And do  _not_ play coy with me, I know that  _you know_ exactly what kind of  _arena_ i'm talking about."

Keith, not sure what to that, shrinks backwards. 

"You're very  _lucky,"_ Allura says a moment later, voice clipped, "that I am deciding to ask questions  _later,_ as I can  _clearly_ see you must be exhausted.I'm going to have to cast a few charms to get this knife out safely, and unlike Pidge I do not have any double affinities. So try not to pass out while I do this, because it will take a while,  _okay?"_

Keith desperately wants to close his eyes but the tone in Allura's voice makes Keith feel like something far worse than death by Sendak will happen if he does. Through sheer willpower, he manages to stay awake. Somehow. Allura just mutters to herself as she works, and after a stressful fifteen minutes Keith is light-headed but patched up. He winces at the sight of the bloodied weapon staining his (somewhat) nice carpeting.

“That should do it,” Allura sighs, arms falling limp. Keith tugs on her to apologize, but she stops him.

“No, no, don’t use any magic now. Actually don’t — don’t do _anything_ now. I… I know you only called me because I won’t try to make you talk about what  _this_ is, which, let me tell you,  _I really want to._ But, i'll only ask _one question_ to spare you. And  _please_ answer honestly." She takes a moment to catch her breath before looking Keith in the eye. Her gaze is fierce.  _"Are you in any danger?"_

Keith thinks, and tries to ignore the plain _worry_ and _concern_ in her voice. Arena, technically, is an incredibly dangerous sport. And they don’t care if Keith loses an arm or is on the brink of death.

But he’s also, as much as he hates to admit it, incredibly talented. He might get injured a bit, but in danger of an actual _serious_ injury?

No, Keith has never fought against anyone like that. So he shakes his head, hoping that he won’t regret his answer later.

Allura just tilts her head, as if gazing deeper into Keith. It’s silent for a moment, before she finally relents.

“Alright. Go, rest. And don’t come into work tomorrow, alright? You need to recover, and I don’t know how you’re going to explain that cut on your face.”

 _Cut on my face?_ Keith immediately touches his chin and winces at sharp pain. Ah. Maybe he got a bit more roughed up than he thought. _Damn, why am I so tired? Must be the blood loss._

Allura pushes Keith to his bed in the middle of his thoughts, insisting that she’ll take care of everything. He doesn’t have the energy to resist, and his crappy bed feels like heaven as he finally drifts off to sleep. He's not sure if Allura stays or not, but he thinks he sees her looking over at the sword lilies she gifted him as the moonlight lightly illuminates the rest of his room. Too tired to care about the state of his messy house, Keith drifts to dreams filled with an all-consuming fire that eats him up alive. 

* * *

Keith spends _another_ two days home before going back to work.

It’s a bit strange, seeing everyone after so long. Pidge runs up and jumps onto him as a greeting — Keith tries not to wince and fall over. Hunk also gives him a hug, although it’s _much_ more gentle than Pidge, and Lance just laughs loudly over a stupid joke about his mullet and slaps his back. Shiro smiles warmly and says that he’s kept Keith’s corner clean for him. Even Coran mentions how he’s glad Keith is feeling better.

The message is clear: _We missed you._

And _oh,_ guilt runs through Keith like a white-hot flame.

Shiro must think the guilt is from being absent for so long, because when Keith stumbles over and hands over a few newly carved figures to say _I wasn’t completely bedridden,_  he squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. 

“Good to have you back,” Shiro says, echoing familiar words from the first day Keith was in Silver.

Allura smiles at him from her position on the couch, but there’s a tired understanding behind it.

Keith doesn’t make any eye contact with her.

"Oh, sweet, the dream-catcher worked!" Hunk says as Keith unpacks his bag. He hands it over to Hunk, hesitating for only a second. True to his word, the night after the Arena battle with Sendak, the strings turned into a golden hue. "Give me a day or two to extract the dream and analyze it."

And everyone just acts...  _normal._ Lance tells Keith about his little sister as he goes about purifying some cursed board game pieces. Hunk interjects from time to time while getting started on the dream catcher, strings soaking what he assumes is purification water. Shiro talks with the customers that come in and summons a few lesser spirits at the back of the room for infusion when there's no one to tend to. Pidge sits with her legs up on the counters and works silently on a charm, bickering with the others from time to time. Allura handles a variety of objects and records the visions she sees onto her sparkly notebook. Coran has taken the duty of cleaning the place up a bit, dusting corners and reorganizing the countertops. 

To make matters worse, an unexpected customer comes for a visit that day. 

It's not like Coran, where Keith was pleasantly surprised to see the familiar face. This time, it's more like a slap to the face. Right after being run over by a truck. He tries not to make a face at the sight of  _him,_ but it's definitely hard. 

"Hello, Is this the magical wares store?" fucking  _Lotor_ asks after walking in, as if he's  _timid,_ as if he  _didn't_ read the sign at the front before coming in. 

He recalls, with quite a bit of disdain, the absolute  _dirtbag_ being in most of his classes when he was still a student at the Garrison. His skin looks even more unnatural as it did all those years ago, smothered in who  _knows_ what kind of skin products to keep himself looking forever twenty, his long, white hair tied up into a ponytail. His clothes are as nice as he remembers them being too, tailored to fit his body perfectly. Truly the son of the leader of the world' biggest magical corporation — Galra Inc. — he wears a variety of gaudy charms that shine with artificial magic. Aesthetically pleasing as he may be, though, Keith knows his personality is, in his opinion, absolute _trash_ — well, okay, maybe Keith is a bit biased towards rich boys with an attitude problem, and  _maybe_ he's a lot less trusting than most people, but Lotor... there's something about him that makes Keith anxious. Anxious and  _angry._

The fact that he had to be paired with Lotor for a group project once, and ended up doing  _all the work_ (yes, Lotor was  _that_ kind of partner) only makes Keith's mental image of him so much  _worse._

"Yes it is, welcome to the Lion's Den!" Lance calls out cheerily, although there's something about his expression that tells Keith he also senses something wrong.  _Maybe Lotor's aura is as awful as his personality,_ he thinks, then snickers to himself. 

"I've heard wonderful stories about this place," Lotor continues, undeterred, but Keith notices that his eyes flicker. "Especially since your new recruit  _Keith_ joined."

Keith instantly recoils a bit at that, but Allura steps up with her practiced smile to save his stumble. "Well, we're very glad to hear that! Did you have something specific in mind for your visit, or are you simply browsing?"

Lotor takes a second to eye Keith before grinning. "Oh, just _browsing."_

(He feels... He doesn't like the implications of...  _whatever_ Lotor means). 

"Do you — know Keith?" Lance asks, and his voice is still polite but there's a pause in his words that make it sound strained. Shiro furrows his eyebrows in concern, and Keith wonders what he's sensing. 

"I do! I used to be Keith's classmate at the Garrison." Lotor stares at Lance. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Lance squints his eyes, as if confused. "I don't remember ever seeing you there, and i've been a student there for as long as Keith has."

Keith, for some reason, is surprised by this. He  _knows,_ theoretically, that Lance is around his age  _and_ is still a student at the Garrison (currently taking a gap year for undisclosed reasons), but he's never really thought about it to realize that he and Lance probably shared a couple of classes way, _way_ before. If they have, though, Keith has no way of remembering — his memories of that place are selective at best.

"Ah, well, have you considered the possibility that we just happened to share no classes?" Lotor continues, and his voice is smooth but there's a frozen quality to his face that tells he's starting to get annoyed. 

"I find that  _hard_ to believe, since there are—"

 _"Lance,"_ Shiro calls out, voice immediately sending a wave of Calm to diffuse the tension. "Why don't you go to the back and restock our herbs, while I help our customer?"

It's impressive how Lance fights Shiro's magic, Keith thinks, to try and protest. "But—"

"Come on, buddy, I'll go with you," Hunk says, before dragging Lance to the back supply room.  

There's a silence before Allura tries smiling again, talking to Lotor about their wares and their individual talents. Lotor keeps nodding at her as if interested, but his eyes keep darting back to Keith. He tries to think back to his time at the Garrison — was there something he did to warrant this kind of...  _attention?_ Unfortunately, he can't think of anything at the moment, and instead tries to ignore the eyes on him. 

He's trying so hard to ignore Lotor and Allura that he doesnt realize his name is being called until Shiro taps his shoulder. He has a worried look in his eyes. "Keith? You there?"  
  
Startled, Keith just jerkily nods. 

"Lotor says he wants to talk to you privately about commissions."

Well then. 

Keith wishes he had just said no. Shiro pats his shoulders again, this time with a kind smile, sensing the apprehension he feels. 

"Keith, you can use my consulting room, okay?" Allura calls out, but he barely hears her over the thumping of his heart. Does... does Lotor want something from him? But he can't fathom what it might be that  _he_ has that Lotor doesn't. 

 _Relax,_ he tries to tell himself.  _He probably just wants a carving, like a normal customer. You're overthinking things, just... give him a chance._

He smiles weakly to Lotor before getting up from his position on the couch and making his way to the back doors. He feels Lotor close behind him, and tries not to tense.  _Relax, relax, breathe..._

Allura's room is small, filled to the brim with an assortment of different goodies from around the world. Apparently her father had been an avid traveller, and a variety of all the souvenirs he's collected are stuffed on top of drawers and bookshelves. At the center of the room is an old, wooden, circular table with a few gemstones — Keith assumes those are from Allura's last client. The chairs are decorated with pink lace, carefully woven with special string to enhance a person's latent magical properties for easier readings; or so, Allura claims, but Keith is also half sure it's just there for the aesthetic. 

Keith stiffly motions for Lotor to sit, and rummages around the drawers for some paper and pencil before sitting himself. He tries his best to put his customer face on — he likes to think he's had some practice now.  _"What kind of carving are you looking for?"_ Keith writes out on a notepad. Lotor, looking from at the paper upside-down, lets out a  _"hmm"_ sound. 

"To put it simply... I'm looking for something that will enhance my magic."  
  
Keith blinks. There's something about the Lotor talks that has him feeling a bit _off,_ but he can't quite but his finger on it. 

"Do you have any ideas recommendations as to what figure or shape would best amplify such a feature?" Lotor continues, picking up Keith's dropped pen and twirling it around. 

He tries to swallow around the sudden feeling of  _something's not right, something's not right, something's not right,_ but it's hard, especially with the way Lotor is staring at him. Despite himself, questions begin to swirl around in his head — like,  _why was Lance so hostile towards Lotor? Why does Keith feel like something_ bad  _is going to happen at any second? Why does he feel like he's forgetting something important. Why..._

_...why does he feel like he's under Shiro's magic?_

Keith recalls the days where his brother would come back from school with happiness or frustration rolling off of him in  _waves_ so intense Keith felt like he was drowning in his emotions. The first time it happened, he had been kinda  _happy_ that he wasn't the only one struggling with control over magic. Then it happened again... and again... and Keith didn't like it so much anymore. It was one thing to be so disconnected from your own feelings, but having someone else's experiences overwhelm yours felt  _wrong._ Underneath whatever mood Shiro was projecting would always be a subtle panic (his  _own_ panic), mixing his mental state into an even more volatile state. 

And the feelings would come abruptly too, which added to the unnatural feeling of it all. Just like  _now;_ his pulse is way too out of control for a situation like this, and before Lotor appeared he had been feeling a bit down, not  _scared._   _This nervousness... is Lotor using some sort of charm?_  

When Keith looks up, Lotor is smiling at him. Keith's heart begins to pound. 

 _Focus, he_  tells himself.  _Just get Lotor out of here as quickly as possible, and worry about the whys later._

Of course, this is easier said than done, but somehow Keith manages to sketch a few ideas Lotor expresses interest in. His hands are shaking the entire time and it feels as if his heart is trying to jump out of his throat, but Lotor doesn't mention it. 

It's on his fourth sketch when Lotor stops him, exclaiming that there's an event that he needs to go to. There's nothing wrong with the statement itself, but  _then —_ it's at that exact moment Keith remembers. 

Lotor doesn't  _have_ any magic. 

He knows this because of the Altea Academy program. While both magic-users and normal people could be accepted into the Garrison, the prestigious Altea Academy programs were made specifically for the former. When he had still been a student, he had thought about applying, since Shiro always talked about how wonderful it was. And he recalls that Lotor had made quite a fuss when they wouldn't accept his application, all based on the fact that all his magic was artificial; store bought, of course, since apparently he didn't have any innate magic. 

 _So why does he need a charm that...?_ Keith frowns.  _No, it's probably nothing — it could be a gift for someone else. Yeah, that's probably it._

(He hates that he can't think with a clear head right now). 

"Oh, and one more thing before I go," Lotor says, cutting Keith out of his thoughts. He stands up and makes his way to the door. "I hope your leg is healing well. The knife wound from Sendak looked like it hurt when you got it — i'm actually kinda surprised I got to see you today! If I were your friend, I wouldn't let you  _work_ knowing that you got that hurt the other day... unless... they don't actually—"

In hindsight, Keith's not quite sure which part of his reaction was his own, and which part of it was the magic. But  _whatever_ it was, the information that Lotor  _knows_ about his fights, and the  _threat_ of him telling everyone else has an overwhelming  _panic_ bursting from him. There's a crazy sort of fear in his veins as he abruptly gets up and pushes Lotor against the wall, hands steaming as he covers the other's mouth with his hands. His wildly beating heart makes him feel dizzy, like he's underwater and  _drowning._

 _(This reaction isn't normal,_ Keith thinks to himself, but with his shaking hands he can't quite do anything about it). 

 _"Don't..."_ Keith rasps out, and he can't even continue.  _Don't tell them._

Lotor raises an eyebrow, shoving away Keith's burning hands. "Don't what? Speak up, Paladin. _I want to hear your voice."_

Keith opens his mouth, and he wants to  _scream,_ wants to tell Lotor to fucking  _leave_ and never come back, but what comes out are these horrible coughs. His eyes begin to water from the force of it, and again, he wonders what kind of crazy charm Lotor has to make him feel like  _this._  

"Well, I guess this is as far as I get today. Pity." Lotor gently tilts Keith's face up with a finger. "Well, I really  _do_ have an event to go to, so I sadly must go. I'll be back soon to continue our discussion about the charm, okay?" 

Lotor grins before handing Keith a business card. 

"And take this, Paladin. I want a response by the end of the month." 

Then, he's gone, closing the door behind him silently. 

He knows he should go out now, that there's not reason to stay couped up here in Allura's room but — but he's still  _shaking_ and this isn't  _normal,_ so he sits back down on the chairs and tries to breathe. Doesn't even  _think_ about what Lotor gave him, knowing that whatever it is will probably send him into another near panic attack. 

He's shaking, he realizes, and in an effort to gain some  _semblance_ of control his eyes wander around the room. Souveneirs, pink lace... all familiar sights. All _good_ things. He ends up staring at an old vanity mirror on top of the drawers, its borders decorated in golden swirls. Looking at himself, he looks —  _wild,_ with haggard eyes and dark bags, unruly hair sticking up a bit from the heat of his clothes. He can see his trembling lips, the sickly pallor of his skin. 

He looks pathetic. 

_What... the fuck does Lotor want from me?_

His own impassive face stares back up at him, offering no answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter, so I hope it isn't too bad for you guys. Hope everyone is having a good summer! And hopefully I'll get another chapter out before my school year starts;; until next time!


	9. I fell into a puddle, tripping over lies as I went sprinting off into the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a look into the present, the future, and the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! it's been a while, so sorry for the slooow update. School has just started and is kicking my ass already. Yet here I am, revising and revising instead of doing my hw. Hope all the students reading this are having a great start of the year, and for the non-students reading this, hope you're doing great as well! 
> 
> I'm very sad to say we are reaching the end soon, (it'll take maybe 12 chapters?) but with my update schedule we have like... a few months left right? LOL well, either way, I really appreciate each and every single one of your comments. They inspire me to keep writing, and not just to satisfy you guys, but because it's fun for me. So I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I struggled with the beginning a little bit, so if it's rushed / choppy my apologies...

Keith is exhausted. 

There's no other way to put it — having to work at the store during the day, and then sneaking off to fight at the Arena almost every night is taking his toll on him. Even when he _does_ get the time to sleep, his dreams are always filled with fire and storms and Red trying to tell him something, which leaves him waking up sweating and unable to really  _rest._ It's not his fault that he begins snapping at others, or accidentally cutting himself while trying to carve. 

(Well, maybe it  _is,_ but he'd rather not think of it like that). 

What makes it worse is that his magic has been feeling more and more unstable lately, random things igniting at the slightest of mood changes. He's almost afraid to go out other than to work or the Arena in fear of accidentally setting some building on fire. He's already had to replace his bedsheets _twice_ now. 

So,  _yeah,_ Keith hasn't felt this overwhelmed in a  _long_ time. But some tired part of him has already accepted it, has already given up on trying to do  _something._ Because, really, what  _can_ he do in this situation? He's bound to do Haggar's will because of the curse he's under — if that disappears, Keith's carefully maintained facade will crumble and he'll put the lives of everyone he gets close to at risk. He's also trapped to do whatever  _Lotor_ wants him to do, whatever that may be, unless he wants everyone to know he's sneaking out at night to fight random strangers in costume. 

And the thought of disappointing everyone — disappointing  _Shiro,_ who was so  _happy_ to have Keith back, to have Keith out of the Arena — seems so much worse than what his situation is now. 

So Keith takes it. It's painful, but it's not unfamiliar; the feeling of isolation. He rejects everyone's offers to go out, to  _talk,_ and tries to convince himself that he's doing this for everyone else when he's alone. If he feels like he's forgetting, he just looks down at his friendship bracelet. He hasn't taken it off since they all got together at Pidge's house, and the weight of the charms constantly reminds him of what he's fighting for. 

 _Right,_ he realizes while lying in bed one night. It's well past midnight and Keith can't sleep; moonlight shines through his windows, illuminating the burn marks up his arms. They're getting harder and harder to hide.  _Right,_   _this is a battle now._ _This is what I get for getting attached._

Keith tries to think of his life _before._ When he was alone, and lived on the streets. When he woke up some days and wanted to disappear. When he was hesitant to join Shiro at the Lion's Den, but joined anyways.  _Was it worth it? Was all of this worth it?_

He looks to the sword liles. To the pictures of Shiro and his family. To his bracelet, shining with all of everyone else's hard work. 

 _It's hell,_ he decides,  _It's hell, but it wouldn't give any of them up for anything. So I have to breathe, and keep going. Like Shiro used to tell me. Breathe._  

But Keith feels choking every time he tries.  

* * *

The business card Lotor gives him is an invitation to work as a manaager at Galra Corps.

It looks like a normal job offer — to anyone else, it might have even been a _kind_ gesture. Working for such a prestigious company would boost Keith's resume up considerably, not to mention the pay would be a lot higher than what Allura gives. Keith knows that gettting a job for Galra isn't difficult — but being something as grand as a  _manager_ was something people only dreamed of. 

But it just  _doesn't make sense._ The people Galra hires for any job position above regular employee are really talented magic-users, people who are _strong_ (not in the sense of brute strength, but strong in their mastery over themselves). Keith is just some bum who can't control his magic, so there's no way  _Galra,_ a multi-million dollar company full of competent workers, not to mention a monopoly over most magical products, would be interested in  _him_ , unless they could actually profit. 

No matter how many times he thinks about it, though, he can't really see how having him be a part of Galra would help them... unless they somehow figured out Keith's true magic and wanted to use it.Which... Keith doesn't want to think about. 

And even if — even if he somehow learned how to control himself, even if he was given the opportunity to leave without making things complicated, Keith can't imagine himself being  _happy._ He could be offered money, fame, the world's best nullification products, or  _whatever_ Galra had, but that would mean leaving everyone at the Lion's Den behind. 

He's already destroyed the two families he had — he doesn't want to leave this one either. 

But there's a catch. There  _has_ to be a catch. What'll happen if he says no? Lotor, as heir to the corporate throne, has a  _lot_ of power. And somehow, he has information about his Arena life. Who  _knows_ what he'll do with that if Keith doesn't comply. And Lotor made it very clear last time he wanted  _something_ from him. Something much more than just a charmed carving. 

He knows Lance used to work at Galra, and wants to ask what it was like, what to  _do_ , but there's aways a sour expression on his face when it's brought up and Hunk speaks as if the entire experience was part of a dark past, so Keith doesn't have the courage to actually pry.  

 _I have until the end of the month,_ Keith tells himself when he feels overwhelmed.  _You still have time, you'll figure it out._

But Allura suddenly announces that their workflow will be increasing in preparations for something called the Spring festival a few days after meeting Lotor. Apparently it's one of the biggest events of the year at Silver — a weeklong celebration to welcome the new season — and, more importantly, a time when neighboring towns visit, a perfect way to advertise and get more customers. Each store is allowed to set up a booth promoting their goods along the main street, and apparently they have to prepare decorations.

It's supposedly fun. Booths only open until mid-afternoon, and during the night there are fireworks, food vendors, and dancing.  

But all Keith can think about is how  _awful_ it would be if he ruined everyone's good time by telling them he was leaving for Galra during that week. He can imagine it, like seeing a glass object fall but not moving fast enough to catch it. He most likely wouldn't be able to tell them during their advertising hours because they were actually supposed to be working. And then after... Lance would most likely convince everyone to get food, and look around for any vendors selling rare food. Hunk would steer them all to the  _actually_ good food stands while Lance sated himself on who knows what, and then Pidge would somehow try to get to the fireworks and add some of her own magic to mess with the lights. Allura would just pretend to hear none of the illegal or definitely dangerous plans the younger trio were making while wearing shades, Coran would tell weird stories to pass the time, and Shiro would just be his goofy self and get emotional. Then night would come and they'd watch the fireworks explode into definitely-tampered with shapes, and Lance would howl while the rest of them pretended not to know each other in fear of being arrested...

... or something like that. 

And then Keith — Keith, true to his nature, would have to drop the bomb  _sometime_ in between all of that. Knowing himself it'd come out suddenly, without warning, and then each of their happy smiles would drop off with disappointment. He didn't even want to  _think_ about the look Shiro would give him. 

 _Fuck you Lotor,_ he thought venemously,  _I knew I shouldn't have tried on our group project._

"Keith, quick question: red banners or blue banners?" Lance's voice calls out, disrupting Keith from his thoughts. It seems as if everyone has been getting tired of Keith's attitude, sensing he's never in the mood to talk and leaving him be. Well, everyone  _except Lance,_ who keeps asking him stupid questions like this, even when he's made it a point to let everyone know he's feeling horrible. 

Knowing it'll be easier to answer rather than ignore him, Keith puts up one finger to vote for the first option. Lance makes an offended noise. 

"Ugh, nevermind. Hunk, blue or red banners?"

"If you already have a preference, why bother asking?" Hunk pauses. "But if you seriously want an answer, why not red _and_ blue"

"I like the way you think, my friend. Let's just do both. So we can appease everyone, even _grumpy Keith_."

Lance's words, while bright, are also accusatory. 

Keith makes a huffing noise but doesn't protest. He would feel bad for treating everyone so horribly the past few days, if he weren't already drowning in self-pity. He thinks back to the first time coming here, when he had told himself he'd stop feeling sorry for himself and get his life together. Well, as 'together' as a washed-up college-dropout illegal-sports-fighter could. 

He realizes how foolish he had been. There's nothing to fix when it's going to break at the end anyways. 

"Keith, if you're not feeling well, you should go home." Shiro says kindly. As if there aren't a considerable amount of commissions Keith has yet to finish. As if that wouldn't make it the third time he went home for 'not feeling well.' As if Keith just needed to  _sleep_ it off, or something. 

And again, Keith realizes just how much Shiro misses despite his empathy magic. He can probably sense the stress, despair, and general mood of feeling like shit every day, but he'll never know _why_ until Keith tells him. And Shiro knows that  _Keith_ knows this, and is probably just waiting for him to be ready, for him to talk to Shiro when he's collected himself. 

He's not sure if he wants or doesn't want the space. 

But nothing he's going through is something he wants to tell Shiro  _ever,_ so living in complete silence by himself it is. 

Suddenly, a startled yell rips Keith out of his thoughts. He realizes the couch he's sitting on has caught  _fire_  a second to late.

 _"FUCK!"_ Pidge calls out, scrambling to get out of the way.  _"What the fuck,_ PUT IT OUT!"

Keith tries, but as usual, fails to reign any of it in. Feeling incredibly overwhelmed, he looks to Shiro with a look of pure panic. 

 _Help._  

Shiro then looks to Lance, who stumbles over a few things before reaching the water basket they keep next to the front door. Keith swears Lance's eyes shine a brighter blue as the liquid rushes out of the basket and to the couch, extinguishing the fire. For a while, all is silent as the couch lets up black smoke. 

"Dude," Pidge says slowly. Her voice shakes a little. " _Not. C_ _ool._ If you're going to be emo, try being emo without burning everyone and this building to the ground, okay?"  

And he deserves it, he really does, but the words feel so much worse than knives digging into his skin. 

"Okay," he quietly hums out, surprising himself and everyone else by talking. His mouth shuts closed and he gets up to leave — Shiro's right, he's not feeling very well and should probably go home.  

 _Good,_ he thinks to himself,  _it's better this way. Make them hate me so they're happy to see me leave._ But as the sky darkens and rain begins to fall, Keith can't help but feel a horrible pain in his chest. 

* * *

He knows he's close to his tipping point — but what pushes him over the edge is something so unexpected that Keith doesn't realize he's free falling until he's seconds away from impact. 

The setting is, unfortunately, familiar enough. He's preparing himself for yet another Arena match — his fifth one that week — which is against a new fighter. He's apparently from another Arena ring, and after winning the championship title a few towns away he decided to try and take the championship from  _here._ Keith himself is a few wins away from winning that title, which would have excited him a long time ago.

But ever since that day he almost set fire to Pidge and stormed out, he's begun to realize that he doesn't like Arena anymore. 

Keith wonders how it got to this. Even before Haggar made the deal with him, he had heard of the various underground rings during his time at the Garrison. Rumors flew around — about how Arena players were secretly loaded, how most of the fighters were just misunderstood and wanted an outlet — but the simple idea of fighting someone based on just pure, magical strength and people  _encouraging_ that kind of power was attractive to Keith. 

Yet on the roads, the idea of actually  _joining_ never crossed his minds, until Haggar approached him with her perfect offer of a curse and the Arena. The first few weeks living in those bunks, while brutal, also helped him stay awake. The beds were cold, his meals were disgusting, he barely got payed (apparently the rumor for loaded Arena players didn't apply to people like him), but for the first time in a long while... he felt  _liked._ The Paladin became a popular title. Other fighters respected him. 

But now the initial glamor of this sort of staged life has faded into weariness. After getting a taste of what it was like at the Lion's Den, Keith has started to realize just how _unhealthy_  this sort of setting was for him. And as he gets closer and closer to his  _old_ lifestyle, he can't help but wonder how he ever convinced himself he was happy at all. 

So Keith walks up the Arena stairs with fake confidence. His opponent is dressed similarly to him, with purple accents rather than red. He also has a long, glimmering cape that flutters dramatically in the wind. A helmet of sorts covers his face, a long, white ponytail coming from under. 

Then Keith hears his voice. 

"Hello, Paladin," Lotor purrs while bowing. The overhanging lights cast his skin into a sickly purple. The announcer's voice he usually hates so much feels far, far away. "Nice to finally meet you on stage. Hope you've been doing well since our last meeting?"

In shock, Keith takes a hesitant step backwards. Lotor compensates by stepping forward. 

"I'm  _Prince,_ and i'm hoping to take the championship title from here. Apparently you're one of the biggest threats, so... I wanted my first appearance to be big and dramatic. Set the tone for everyone else, you know?" 

 _Right,_ he thinks, not processing the words.  _Lotor is here. In an Arena fight. And wants to get a title. While he doesn't have any magic. Right. I'm not going crazy. Not going crazy at all._

Keith looks around, wondering if Red will pop up and say  _surprise! This was all just a dream._

He hears the bell sound distantly, the fight officially starting. Red is nowhere to be seen. Neither of them move. 

 _Okay, okay... focus. What kind of charm might Lotor have up his sleeve this time?_ Keith wonders, thinking only about analysis and winning the game — if he thinks about what Lotor's presense implies, or all the things he's been dealing with lately, he feels as if he's seriously going to lose it. 

Lotor, after sensing that Keith isn't going to attack first, smiles haughtily and begins walking sideways. Keith's legs instinctively move in the opposite direction, keeping an even distance from each other. 

"What would your friends say if they saw you here?" Lotor calls out tauntingly as they circle each other. "I've heard of your power, _Red_ Paladin. The way you burn your enemies with no hesitation. The  _ruthless_ way you grab victory after victory, despite not wanting to be here at all... most of us are people who can't make it big in the real world.  _You_ understand that feeling, right? It's something not even your precious  _friends_ can understand. They've all been blessed with the perfect magic to excel in this world."

Keith doesn't respond. Focuses on looking for openings. Tries not to listen, but fails anyways. 

"They'll never understand. So, why deny the opportunity I've given you?" There's no reason to decline! Galra will give you better pay, better housing, better friends... they don't care if you're an Arena player or not. Or what kind of magic you have — all are accepted, no matter how broken."

Lotor takes a step forward, and Keith's arm flare up in flames instinctively. He feels a growing pressure at his temples — a sure sign of unreleased magic building up — but Lotor just chuckles. 

"No? Is that really not enough to convince you? You're so hard to please, Mr. Paladin." Lotor smiles. "Well I didn't want to go here, but..." 

Lotor snaps forward with unnatural speed, knives flying out of his hand. One skims the surface of his arm, and he barely dodges the others.  

"You have very fast reflexes, my friend," Lotor whispers, now closer. "I'm not so sure your other friends are as attuned as you are, though. I have both physical and economic power beyond your imagination. I can buy out the entire area. Crush your friend's puny little junk shop _and_ their skulls into the ground. I  _am_ the heir to Galra corporations, you know.Not only will you ruin  _their_ jobs, you'll have to admit that you're back  _here,_  doing who _knows_ what.And I heard your brother doesn't really  _like_ Arena... it'll be a very sad story indeed."

Keith growls — actually, full on  _growls_ with a sort of malice he never thought he'd be able to express. Lotor's posture looks hesitant for a second before straightening out. Most likely to cover himself up and to prepare for another attack, Keith notes. 

"So! I said it last time and I'll say it again. I'm giving you until the end of the month, the  _Spring_ festival, to make your decision. Though, if you ask me, there's only one option here."

_Why? Why does he want me to leave the Lion's Den so badly? What could he possibly gain from this?_

Keith doesn't have time to think about it. Lotor begins attacking in earnest, and Keith barely has time to summon his fiery sword to fight back. For a while, he plays defensively, afraid of what charms the other might have, but after a bit of playing 'stab-and-run', Keith realizes Lotor doesn't have anything on him — not today, at least.  

It's easy, after that, and Keith relishes in the fact that on the battlefield of strength it's  _him_ with the advantage, not  _Lotor._ Unrelenting with his flames, Keith manages to get Lotor off the stage by feinting and then grabbing Lotor by his shoulder, flipping him over his head, and flinging him out of the ring.

"—There it is folks! The Paladin defends his title against Prince! Who would've thought? Who would've known? Stay tuned, folks, as our champions leave for tonight. We'll see you all here,  _to-mor-row!"_

Keith, breathing heavily, steps down the stage to the locker rooms. With only minor injuries, he would have considered that fight a win.  _If_ it were against anyone else. Now finding himself alone in the locker room, Keith closes his eyes and recalls Lotor's words. 

_Though, if you ask me, there's only one option here._

Keith may not know the reason for Lotor's doing, but it's clear he has to act. 

So he walks home alone, and doesn't call Allura that night. 

* * *

Some people are born with magic from the start, other's develop them at a certain age. Apparently it depends on genetics, but Keith has no idea what kind of people his parents are, much less how their  _magic_ was developed, if they even  _had_ any, so for most of Keith's early childhood he doesn't really think about it. He presents as a normal boy with no special abilities while jumping from foster home to foster home, and it stays that way until his thirteenth birthday. 

When he wakes up that day, the only thing that's different from usual is that he has a minor headache. But Keith is prone to that sort of thing, and his foster brother David accidentally shoved him into the living room bookcases a bit  _too_ hard the other day, so he doesn't think much of it. It's a weekend, he remembers, mostly because he had slept late enough for brunch. 

He's at his sixth foster home at this point, and he's had a lot _worse_ but the Chens aren't the best either. The father drinks a bit too often for Keith to be comfortable, and David, who sometimes seems genuinely sorry for his actions, is still somewhat of a brat. The mother is the nicest, and if it were  _just_ her maybe Keith would have been content. Not  _happy,_ but content. 

But it's not just her, and three months into living with these people Keith has already noticed that the family is falling apart. With the phantom touches of a not-quite mother and the ruffled pats of a reluctant father, it's no wonder David lashes out at Keith. Not that he  _pities_ him, or anything, but at the very least Keith can understand where he's coming from. He doesn't have to like it, but it's a sad truth he's seen happen way too often. 

They're not the richest, either. All of Keith's clothes (for now) are hand-me-downs that are  _way_ too big. Ms. Chen keeps promising she'll buy him something when they're better off, but deep down Keith isn't expecting much, doesn't  _want_ to siphon off this family's money. 

So, when he's actually given a birthday present that day, he can't help but be surprised. 

"It's not much, dear, but you can get something from the local convenience store. Or some new clothes from the thrift shop. Just let me know when you wanna go, and I'll drive you, okay?" Ms. Chen says after they've cleaned up the table, smiling brightly. He looks down to the envelope he's been given, fancy lettering reading ' _To: Keith',_ and finds twenty dollars inside. 

For some reason, Keith has the urge to say  _thank you._

The feeling is instantly squashed at the thought of speaking. He knows, while the Chens are trying to learn around his muteness, they're frustrated by it as well. But even the look of disappointment from these people, from Ms. Chen specifically, isn't enough to spur him on. Honestly, nothing the past few  _years_ has been enough, and he almost feels bad for these people for trying to 'help' a lost cause. 

So instead, he bows to say his thanks, and hopes thats enough to express himself.

And then, it happens just as he's about to go back to his room. 

Looking back, Keith wonders if he could have done something...  _differently._ If he hadn't been mute, could he have calmed David down? Would his words have made a difference? Most of the time he likes to think  _no,_ because his simple presence has been a sore spot in the Chen's family dynamic from the start. Nobody needs to explain to him that the only reason why he was fostered by these people is that they believed having Keith would somehow snap everything back together and fix things. Yet when he arrived, all the cracks and imperfections became more obvious as Ms. and Mr. Chen tried to care for two children they had no resources for. Logistically, there's really nothing he could have done, because some things in life simply happen without warning, and there's really nothing anyone can do about it. 

But there's always a small thought — maybe, maybe, things could have been different. But Keith tries not to think about that too much, because technically  _everything_ in his life could have been different. But it isn't, and never  _will_ be, so the most he can do is accept his past and move on. At least, that's what Coran says. 

(It still haunts him, though, and he hopes for at least  _one_ alternate universe where Keith is happy, where Keith doesn't have to deal with the blood of the innocent in his hands.

There _has_ to be at least one, right?)

So, the story goes: the sun rose, Keith woke up, and after David pushed him against the wall Keith's magic literally exploded and killed everyone in the house. 

It goes: while Keith was leaving the kitchen he bumped into David, and they got into a fight. 

It goes: everyone is made out of stardust, and maybe that's where Keith's magic originates from. 

Keith has just finished eating his cereal when David walks in, still half-asleep. Keith instinctively shrinks a bit as David sits across from him with a bowl of his own. The Chens say good morning to each other, and for a while there is peace.   
  
Then, David notices Keith's envelope, and instantly wakes up. 

"Mom," David whispers, shock written all over his face, "what the _fuck?"_

 _"Langauge,"_ Ms. Chen berates. Then looks to Keith. "Alright, go up to your room now, sweetie. I'll call you later for a late lunch, okay?"

It's clear she's dismissing him before David can say anything that might hurt his feelings. Knowing he's not welcome at the kitchen anymore, Keith silently gets up, puts away his bowl, and makes a point of walking down the hallways.

Before silently tip-toeing back, hiding himself behind the walls. 

(In his defense, he doesn't like being shit-talked, and he wants to know what sort of complaint David has for today.)

"—Mom..." he hears David continue. "Why... why does  _Keith_ get a present? What did _he_ do to deserve that?"

(And he's never heard someone say his name like that — like it's something dirty and disgusting. At the time had been appalled that something this  _petty_ had been the cause of David's anger, but now that he thinks about it there's so much  _more_ he's actually saying).

"He's my  _son._ Your  _brother,"_ Ms. Chen says back a bit coldly. "How could I not? It's a special day."

There's a scary silence, and even the sound of the dishes being done can't fill it. Keith holds his breath.

Finally, David responds, and his voice is angrier than he's ever heard it. "Keith.Is not. Your _son_. Keithis just some sorry kid you picked up to feel better for yourself!  _I'm_ your son!"

_(Static — he's not sure he wants to be here anymore, but he stays)._

_"DAVID!"_ Ms Chen says loudly, shocked. "What are you  _saying?_ Keith _is_ our son! I thought you said you were okay with fostering him! I thought you said you were  _happy!"_

"I only said yes 'cause  _you_ wanted him! But i'm sick and tired of this! Of  _him!_ He's only been a sore spot in this family, but you just don't want to admit it! You don't want to admit that this was all a mistake! And you're trying to make this better but—"

"David."

"— but you're  _wrong,_ and it would be better if, if we—"

_"David."_

"— we  _returned_ him, or something —"

_"DAVID!"_

Silence. 

 

Keith doesn't dare to breathe, forgetting himself. So — so  _this_ is what it was about. It shouldn't be a surprise. It's not even the first time someone has thought of him in that way. But as he stands alone in that hallway, Keith realizes he's close to crying. 

"David, go back to your room, and think about what you're saying," says Ms. Chen after a moment, voice strained.  

Maybe this is when David realizes that he's overstepped some invisible boundary, because after he mutters,  _"I hate this family,"_ he begins stomping out of the kitchen, his breakfast forgotten. 

A bit too late, Keith realizes he's going to get caught. He scrambles back,  _back to his room where he's supposed to be,_  but David has already seen him standing there like an _idiot_ , and a strange expression falls over his face. 

"So you  _were_ listening this entire time," he whispers before walking forward. Maybe it's the fear and adrenaline from being found, but Keith swears that the hallway walls bend, trapping him in. He can't breathe very well. 

"You think it's funny, yeah? You decide to waltz your way into  _our_ family, and make a big mess of it, yeah?"

 _No, no, no,_ he thinks frantically. But the words just build up at the back of his mouth, clogging up his esophagus. 

 _"You think you can just..._ leech  _off of us, or something? Do you find_ _it_ fun  _to mess around?_ 'Oh, look at the poor orphan kid!'" he mocks, face turning more and more red. "I bet you use that card a lot,  _right."_

 _Anger, anger, anger,_ but to who it's directed at — himself, for tearing yet another family apart, or David, for making himself the victim — he's not sure. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's at the world. 

"I.  _Hate._ You." he seethes, reaching for Keith ( _run away,_ his instinct screams,  _but stay,_ it also whispers).

And the story goes— 

David pushes him roughly against the wall, and then something  _ugly_ bursts from him. 

It's ugly, raw,  _powerful._ The air around him turns hotter and hotter as a high-pitched scream fills the room ( _that's me,_ he realizes a moment later,  _i'm screaming)_ twisting and turning as Keith's body seems to light on fire. David instantly lets him go, scrambling backwards, a look of pure  _terror_ on his face as he realizes the oxygen around him changing into something else. Keith's head is pounding, everything feels like it's  _splitting,_ but he can't stop himself — like an overflowing cup, he's been tipped over and the force of the water gushing out has everything crashing,  _falling._

Then, in the palm of Keith's trembling hands, a star is born. 

It pulses brightly, a deep fire-red mass only a few centimeters wide. Keith feels a sort of pull from it —  _gravity,_ he realizes, weak but definitely there. And looking back, it's obviously not as strong as the stars in space, able to pull in entire planets, but it still has a  _lot_ of power. Too  _much_ power, really, for it to be safely contained in a thirteen year old boy in the tiny corner of a hallway.

Keith locks eyes with David, which are glowing from the light of the star. "What's..." the other boy starts, voice hoarse. 

Those are the last words Keith hears before the star explodes. 

He doesn't see it happening. Doesn't see the sudden expansion of fire and light as it consumes the house, burning three bodies and not touching the other. It's blinding, the force of it all, and he squints and covers his eyes with his arms. He  _feels_ it, though. It's like letting go after holding his breath for a long, long time. It's like a stretched rubber band being released. Tension leaves his body, and while there's heat, a  _lot_ of heat, it doesn't actually bother him,  _hurt_ him. 

By the time his vision clears, there's fire around him. The star hadn't hurt him, yet the flames licking up his skin and the smoke rising into his lungs seem to be a different story. But a sudden wave of dizziness and exhaustion overwhelms him, and he falls over while trying to get up,  _get out._

Then Keith's eyes land upon David. 

The burning pain he feels is instantly overtaken by a sudden, overwhelming dread. He looks...  _dead,_ for lack of a better word, completely knocked out ( _and only knocked out,_ he tries to tell himself), legs mangled in a way that has him nauseous. Keith's hands are shaking, his pulse  _pounds_ in his ears, and his head sways.

And Keith stays like that — sitting silently with the chaos he's created — even while the building crumbles around him, even as the fire spreads and smoke curls, until he's close to passing out and the distant sound of sirens assure him that maybe  _someone_ can be saved. 

(That someone is  _him,_ he realizes later. When he wakes up in a hospital room, healed through magic and medicine, he almost expects to see Ms. Chen come in and say something, promise him something new once they get their lives back together. But she doesn't, and the only person to come through are the nurses and his social worker who looks solemnly at him with a strange expression before saying,

"I'm sorry to say you were the only survivor.")

At the end of the day, he has no physical scars, and Keith can't help but marvel that he's gotten out of that  _uninjured._ Not a single mark to show for the entire ordeal. He's caused discord in other families, been a 'problem child' and a generally unwanted kid, but  _burning up a home_ and  _killing three people_ are something on an entirely new level.

In the end, It's an easy decision. Everyone is terrified of him, and the adults are wondering what to do. What would he do in court? What foster family would want him now? What would be a safe place to put him?

The thing is nobody knows. And  _Keith_ knows that nobody knows, so he decides to do everyone a favor by running away. It's the first time he's ever lived like this — on the streets, by himself — but he only struggles for three days before falling into a rhythm of hiding and looking for new places to rest. Policemen look for him for one month before giving up. Everyone is glad. Nobody  _wants_ him, he knows. Everyone thinks  _he_ should have been the one that died, he knows.

The  _Chens_ are the victim, and Keith is the alien who invaded and destroyed their world. 

 _He_ knows _this better than anyone else._

And that's how the story goes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @allu-ria ! I'm always happy to hear from you guys ^^


	10. i’m really tired of it all and hate how it’s my fate to lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really sorry this took so long to get out guys... alkdfjasld i dont know what happened, it just ended up taking a month longer than it usually does. Thanksgiving is pretty soon so i hope everyone reading this has a great holiday / break! also I know it's a bit soon to be talking about this, but i'm considering releasing writing a klance pokemon au after this is done... would you guys be interested? Let me know, and other than that enjoy reading :)

Keith meets Hunk in his dreams. 

Or, well, he guesses its  _their_ dream. It starts normally, though, with Red curled around a crackling fireplace. Darkness and wind swirl around the edges of Keith's vision, but every time he tries to get a closer look as to what's on the horizon things begin to blur. He gets the sense that he's at the eye of a horrible storm, chaos and destruction surrounding him but never quite touching. 

After a moment, Red growls to get Keith's attention and flicks her tail. 

"What's wrong?" he instantly calls out, taking a seat closer to the fire. He buries his face in Red's soft fur and tries not to melt — he's so  _tired,_ all of a sudden. Red seems to yawn in agreement, pawing lazily at the ground. 

For a moment, all is peaceful. 

And then, a yellow lion jumps out from the darkness and _roars._

She's much bigger than Red, both in presence and in build. The ground trembles with each step she takes, a strange charm hanging from her neck. Red instantly raises herself despite her exhaustion and growls fiercely. 

"Hey, hey! It's okay!" a familiar voice calls out. "Don't panic! I'm just a passing, friendly mage that— wait, uh,  _Keith?"_

Then, to Keith's absolute  _bewilderment,_ Hunk steps out from the darkness. He's wearing his traditional witch's outfit, and in his hand is a long staff with a dream catcher on the top. Yellow and white feathers decorate the sides, along with a variety of earth-y gemstones. His eyes reflect the color of the strange charm around the yellow lion's neck. 

"Um," Keith calls out hesitantly. He's not sure what to say. "Hunk? Is... is this actually you, or...?"

Hunk blinks rapidly, as if he's having trouble understanding Keith's words. "You can  _talk?!"_ He exclaims a second later, before flushing. "I, I mean — sorry! That was rude. I didn't mean it like that, I'm just... surprised. Like, I haven't heard you say more than, like, two words and its like — kinda weird but not  _bad_ weird and—"

"Hunk," Keith interrupts, somewhat amused. "You're rambling."

"Right, sorry, sorry..." Hunk trails off, although he doesn't miss the way he mumbles  _"this is so weird"_ before clearing his throat. "But, to answer your question, yeah it's really me. Sometimes my magic just kinda leads me... wherever in my sleep. Which is why I'm here. Now. Perks of being a dream mage, or something like that..." Hunk shifts on his feet nervously. "...can I sit for a bit?"

Keith just nods and pats the ground as an invitation. Hunk eyes Red warily, who's posture is still tense, as he takes a seat across from Keith. His yellow lion comes close and curls next to him, purring after a moment. 

"So..." Keith calls out when the silence lasts a bit too long, "You have a lion too?"

"Oh— her? Well, technically  _yes_ and  _no. S_ he's my lion in _this_ dream world but — she's been other things, other animals. Depends on where we are, and who we're with." 

"Huh. Interesting." 

"Mhm. She's supposed to be a manifestation of my magic, just like this entire dreamscape is a representation of yours. I guess I have a pretty adapting personality, so Yellow reflects that by taking the form of whatever is most comfortable with the original dreamer. When we're alone, though, she usually takes the form of a golden retriever."

"...Wait." Keith tilts his head, "I thought Red was a manifestation of my magic?" Or at least, that's what he had assumed when first coming in contact with her. And all those dream books he's read mentioned that animal companions were common symbols of magic for mages. 

Hunk hums a bit in thought. "Well, again, yes  _and_ no. Magic taking form of an object or animal is very common in dreams. And while Red is a representation of the _core_ of your magic, the fireplace... the atmosphere... it also represents the character of your magic, and by extension, the character of _you."_

"Oh," Keith says quietly, eyeing Red. Eyeing the storm. He wonders when the raging infernos and exploding suns will appear — or perhaps that's what's at the corners, and this safe little pocket of space is what he's managed to achieve with Haggar's curse. It's somewhat of a depressing thought. 

"Yep. It's really nice here, actually. I don't think I've ever met someone who's had such a relaxing dreamscape."

Keith, despite himself, snorts at that. 

"Hey! Give yourself some more credit, buddy," Hunk says with a sad smile. "I can understand why you'd think fire is dangerous, but it's also a sign of life and warmth. I can feel it through this fireplace... through Red."

 _But what about stars?_ Keith wonders. _What are e_ _xploding stars and black holes signs of?_

"Do you usually stumble into your friends' dreamscapes?" Keith says at last, trying to change the subject.

Hunk frowns, and for a moment it looks as if he'll push Keith further — but then he lets it go. "Only when they're in trouble, or they need to be told something," he answers reluctantly.

"...oh," Keith echoes again. 

"'Oh' indeed," Hunk sighs. "I guess this is a sign to tell you what I found after looking through the dream catcher you gave back to me back to me. I... I actually decoded it a while ago, but I wasn't sure when the best time would be to tell you the news."

Keith crinkles his nose. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" 

Hunk sighs. "Dreams are very... fluid, and fickle. One object can mean a thousand different things, and vice versa. I... I can't be one- _hundred_ percent certain that what i've interpreted is true, and me telling you might change things, or make the situation worse. So, it should be up to you whether you want to hear the news or not, cause it could definitely make things worse."  
  
Keith closes his eyes to take a deep breath. "...So i'm guessing whatever you interpreted is bad."

Hunk scrunches up his face. "I mean, like I said, I could be totally wrong, but... yeah, I got pretty bad vibes. I — I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Keith says bluntly. Honestly, he's not surprised; with the way things have been going, he doesn't need premonitions to know things aren't favorable for him right now. He hesitates a bit before asking, "What do you think? Is there... anything you can tell me, or would it be better to keep completely silent?" 

It's a while until Hunk responds. "I'll tell you this. There's a storm on the horizon — that's the gist of what your dreams have been trying to tell you. But in the darkest of times, don't forget that you have  _us._ Everyone cares about you, okay? And — and if you're ever faced with a really hard decision, it'd be best for you to follow your own heart." Hunk pauses and looks at Keith's face, as if searching for something. "...That's all I have to say.  

A shiver runs through Keith at those words, unsure of what to say in response. The fire crackles warmly, the darkness from earlier almost completely gone in the presence of two lions. Its peaceful, almost, Hunk humming quietly to himself as warmth surrounds them. 

"Thanks, then. I'll try to... keep it in mind."

"Good."

And for a while, they stay like that, silent and together and warm.  _I don't want to wake up,_ he thinks,  _I don't want this to end._ Because  _now_ is safe and comforting and everything reality  _isn't._

 _Hunk said something about making a hard decision,_ Keith notes, petting Red.  _He was probably referencing Lotor's offer._

_'Follow your own heart'..._

Keith almost scoffs.  _Which part of my heart do I follow? The part that wants to protect the people I love, no matter what I have to go through, or the part that wants to say '_ fuck it' _and be happy?_

He knows what the right answer is, but  _why the hell did it have to be so damn hard?_ Why did he have to suffer so much? 

Keith doesn't realize he's falling asleep until he hears rustling and a soft,  _'good night'_ from Hunk. And by the time he jolts awake with realization, it's to the sound of his alarm rather than to the sound of Red's steady heartbeat. 

* * *

Keith is used to life throwing curveballs at him. 

Discovering he has magic? Okay then. Being found by the Shirogane's? He never thought something like that would happen, but he's not complaining. Getting accepted into the Garrison? Sure. Losing his parents and  getting  _expelled_ from the Garrison? Of course. Getting scouted to be an Arena player? Well, in his humble opinion, Keith's life has been a mess of shitty and sometimes slightly less shitty experiences. He's used to life turning around and around, so much that he barely gets dizzy when something turns around again. 

But coming into work one day and everyone shouting 'SURPRISE' at him while giving him a gift?

The entire experience has him  _reeling._

If Keith thought the spring festival was going to be bad,  _this_ makes it so  _so_ much worse. He gingerly accepts the wrapped box, which has the words  _'for: Keith'_ written in calligraphy. Everyone, especially Allura, is looking at him with expectant faces, so he makes his way to the couches and opens it up, holding his breath. He's not sure what to expect, so he's not sure why he's shocked to find neatly folded  _clothes._

He takes it out, feeling the soft fabric under his fingers. It's all vibrant reds, mixed with undertones of black, white, and gold. Seeming styled after his magic, there's a scarf is designed to look like flames flowing from behind him when worn, orange hues seemingly glowing. There's also a shirt and pants, and although they're rather simple the outfit mixes a minimalistic charm that Keith usually wears, along with a flowy-ness that reminds him of more modern fashion.  

He looks at everyone with wild eyes. 

"It's a traditional mage's outfit!" Allura bursts out, eyes shining with excitement when Keith gives her a confused look. "Shiro mentioned you didn't have one, and we all wear ours for the spring festival. I tried to design it with your fashion tastes in mind, so I hope you like it. Consider it a gift from  _all_ of us — Shiro, Hunk, and Lance all helped to infuse some Attributes into it, and Pidge also added some charms—"

"—two words: hidden pockets. You're welcome," Pidge interjects smugly. 

"And I was the model!" Coran also interrupts, rubbing his mustache. "You know, back when I was around your age I actually was on the front cover for —"

"Okay, well, what i'm  _trying_ to say is," Allura says, cutting Coran off, "we worked hard on making this, so we hope you like it."

Keith feels like his brain is short circuiting. 

He's not sure why something as simple as this seems so  _big_ _._ Maybe it's because there's no reason for it — at least, for every other crazy thing that happened in his life, there was some explanation. Right now, though, there's nothing he can think of that would warrant this kind of behavior. He had been horrible the past few weeks, barely getting any work done and treating everyone coldly. And in return, he gets a  _gift;_ a traditional witch's outfit, tailored to him perfectly.

He tries smiling at them,  _really,_ he does, but his overwhelming joy at getting such a gift is shadowed by the realization that telling these people — who, somehow,  _still_ care about him — about his offer at Galra Corporations is going to be  _that much harder._

 _Fuck,_ he thinks,  _I want to punch Lotor so fucking badly._

Shiro must feel his dread, because the hopeful look on his face instantly drops. "If — if you don't like it, we can change the designs. We tried to match this to the things you usually wear, but... yeah, let us know." 

At that, Keith shakes his head rapidly.  _No, no, no!_ _I really like it,_ he tries to convey. 

"You don't have to lie to us," Lance says earnestly, "It won't hurt our feelings. Really. It wont take long to change it, and it's more important that these match your —"

Frustrated, Keith brings up his flames.  _" NO, I really like it. Thank you so much."_

Everyone is looking at him strangely now. 

He turns around, trying to cover his face.  _Fuck,_ he thinks again,  _I can't do this._ Horrified, he feels tears beginning to form at the corner of his eyes. 

"Wait, Keith, are you  _crying?"_ Lance starts after a moment, a gleeful expression in his tone. "Aw, it's okay, just let it out—"

Keith finally  _snaps._ In both the literal and emotional sense. 

 _"I got a job offer at Galra Corporations."  _The fire is warm against his fingers, and for a moment he wishes he could burn himself.  _"I'll leave after the festival. Thanks for the gift, though."_ He adds as an afterthought. 

He stares pointedly at the ground, not daring to breathe, not daring to see their reactions. There's a lasting silence that seems to be choking him. It's wrapped around his neck, like the blade that had cut his throat in the car accident, and he  _can't say a word, can't say—_

"I... oh, Keith, that's great! You should've told us sooner," Shiro starts, breaking Keith out of his thoughts. His words are kind, but when Keith turns around to see his face there's a strange expression on his face that doesn't match his words at all.  

Is it better now that he's let it out in the open, or should he have waited for the last minute to break his ties?

Looking at everyone's face, he's not so sure. 

"Is — is  _that_ what you've been moping about?" Pidge starts, an incredulous tone in her voice. "The past few weeks you've been hiding something like  _this—"_

"Pidge," Coran says gently. "Keith most likely wanted to—"

The words fade out. He doesn't like the idea of Coran putting words in his mouth, but he can't hear him, can't  _stop_ him. There's a strange sort of detachment beginning to surround him, muffling the world.  _Speak out,_ a part of him thinks, desperately,  _speak._ But all he can do is shake his head, hoping,  _praying_ someone can understand him. It feels as if the room around is collapsing,  _squeezing_ in and suddenly the only thing he can focus on is the fact that  _he can't breathe._

 _I don't want to go,_ his heart aches,  _don't let me go._

"Keith— Keith?" It's Shiro, shielding him from everyone's questions. "Can you hear me? I need you to breathe with me— calm down, yeah, just like that."

Keith squeezes his eyes as a sudden wave of calmness and clarity overcomes, a hint of an apology riding behind it. Shiro only ever overrides Keith's emotions when it's getting dangerous — and belatedly, Keith realizes his fire is beginning to lick up his arms. His skin tingles with light burns. 

"S-Sorry," he chokes out, extinguishing them. His head is dizzy from Shiro's magic. "I —sorry..." 

Shiro simply purses his lips, obviously upset but not wanting to push. "Don't apologize, we're sorry for overwhelming you. You don't have to answer this right now, but — could you explain the situation a bit more to us? We're all confused. We thought—" and Keith  _hates_ the guilty look on his face, as if this was  _his_ fault — "...I thought you were doing better here."

_I thought you were happier here._

Keith takes a shuddering breath. And another one. Catching his breath as Shiro's magic begins to fade is taking longer than he'd like to admit. 

"Do — do you have to go?" Pidge starts quietly. "I... It's... we haven’t even gotten to know you that well.”

And Keith, despite having spent the last few months with these people, realizes the truth of that statement. Yes, he's gotten a lot closer to them than he would ever have thought. He's comfortable enough with them to attempt some verbal communication, and nobody judges him for his silence. Yet none of them  _really_ know his past, and in the same way he doesn't know theirs. Sure, he knows their personalities and their surface-level likes and dislikes… but how far can you get with that, anyways? They’re his friends, but he's not  _friends_ like they are with each other. Perhaps, if he had stayed longer with them, he could have learned all about them.  And perhaps in the far, far future, Keith could have more confidence in his voice and told everyone about his time in foster care, about his Arena adventures and his  _actual_ magic, not the flimsy fire he calls up for show. The  _gravity._ His  _stars._

But that future seems so, so far away now. 

He can't do this — can't do this while  _looking_ at them, so he turns his head away again and nods stiffly. 

"Are they  _forcing_ you, or something?" Pidge speaks up, voice getting warbled. "Or— or do you really not like it here? Was it — did we do something wrong? We like having you around, Keith, so it's..." 

Keith keeps shaking his head, and it's like he cant stop.  _No, no, no, no_ he thinks desperately,  _not your fault, not your fault at all..._

 _"Pidge,"_ Lance interrupts, sounding strange. "I– don't push it."

"Lance, are you—" 

"I'm—fine, Hunk. don't worry about me." Lance then smiles at Keith and tries to make eye contact with him. "I'll miss you, buddy, but I understand."

Vaguely, recalls that Lance used to work at Galra. He wonders if he was threatened into it too. What was ransomed? What price did Lance pay to come here?

What price would  _Keith_ have to pay to leave? Would there even be a price he could pay? 

"Lance," Pidge starts, voice low. "What the hell, do you  _remember what Galra Corporations did to—"_

"Pidge," Lance says again. "Drop it. I— just drop it."

He can tell Coran is trying to read his face, his expressions, but he stays strangely silent. 

An awkward silence falls on them until Allura finally claps her hands together. 

"Well. Thank you for the notice," Allura says, a bit clipped. Keith just tries not to flinch. "I'm glad you'll be with us for the festival, at least... we have about another week to finish our decorations. Keith, when you get home try on the clothes, and if they don't fit I'll patch it up. Other than that... I think that's enough for everyone today. Why don't we go home and rest? We can... we can have our final goodbyes at the end of the Spring Festival."

No one mentions it's hours before they're supposed to close. 

Pidge leaves first, slamming the door behind her with an angry slam. Hunk and Lance go next, each sending him apologetic smiles. Shiro just hugs him, offering to walk him home (Keith stiffly refuses). Then it's just Allura and Coran, who are looking at him with unreadable expressions. 

He feels like ants are crawling across his skin. 

"Have a good rest, Keith." Allura says, beginning to clean up. "I— I don't really know your history, but I'm sure you have a good reason. I'm happy that you've grown to take the next step in your life. Just make sure to stay safe, alright?" For some reason, her words feel like knives stabbing into him. He remembers when he used to call Allura during those nights after the Arena — perhaps that was the start of this downfall. He wonders what she thinks of him now — as some sort of traitor? He wouldn't be surprised.  

"Just remember I'm always here to talk, my boy," Coran says softly. And then the two of them are gone, and it's just Keith, standing alone at the Lion's Den. His present lies forgotten on the couches. 

 _I'm tearing everything apart,_ he realizes.  _Just as I thought I would._

Then, when the real tears come, he doesn't hold them back. 

* * *

When he tries on the clothes, he can't help but stare at himself in the mirror.

They fit perfectly. The fabric is so warm against his skin he want's to wear it forever. 

And what did he give them in return? 

 _Yeah,_ he thinks to himself,  _I really am an idiot._

* * *

The spring festival comes way too soon. 

Keith finds himself looking forward to it and dreading it. After telling everyone the truth, Keith had thought everyone would hate him. But  _again,_ everyone had surprised him by apologizing for their reactions and giving him supporting smiles. It makes him feel simultaneously worse and better. It's obvious they're all trying to lighten the mood, to genuinely have a good time during the festivities so that he can leave with good memories on his mind.

"And you'll visit a lot, right?" Lance says one day, tongue sticking out as he adds glitter to their sign. "I mean, you'll definitely still be around so there's no reason not to. Unless you actually hate us, and like, you  _want_ to get away and—"  
  
"I don't hate you," he mumbles quietly, but Lance hears it anyways. There's a quiet pause as Lance digests the words before smiling so brightly Keith ends up smiling back. 

"Well, none of us hate you either. So come around again whenever you can."

Keith just nods. 

So, on the day of, he finds himself being dragged along for the festivities. 

At least the promise of games and food and  _fireworks_ seems like a pretty good day to end on. It'll all probably make the goodbye at the end so much harder, but in the moment he doesn't care.  _Let me have this,_ he thinks to himself,  _let me have this one thing please._ They get a surprising amount of customers throughout the morning, and Keith's fingers ache with the strain of carving so much. Everyone compliments his work with such bright faces, though, that he finds that he doesn't mind at all.

And when noon comes around and they have to close up their stall, Lance and Pidge drag him to the food stands — and he could very easily shake them off, but he finds himself unable to resist their infectious laughter. 

"Here, here, have some — of this. It's from Balmera. Very good," Lance says brightly, holding out what seems to be candied rocks. Keith notes that his outfit — all of theirs, really — are truly fitting. Lance wears a traditional witch's hat thats a bit floppier than Hunk's and embroidered with seashells. A cloak of the same dark blue wraps around his entire torso, hiding gold bands and rings that can only be seen when he lifts his arms up. Underneath are simple black pants and a belt that holds little vials of potions and purified water. A glowing, almost white crystal hangs on a chain around his neck. The way the fabric moves reminds Keith of ocean waves during the night.

Pidge, on the other hand, is wearing the overalls she wore during their first meeting, although for the occasion has embedded parts of it with a variety of flowers. He's seen Hunk's before, when they were gathering herbs, but under the spring sunlight the fabric looks much lighter. He's also seen Shiro's before — long, long ago, when Keith was still in high school, he wore it once for some sort of college fair. The grey undersuit just as plain as it did back then; but there are new things as well, like the silver crown that rests on top of his head and the black cloak that covers his prosthetic. Allura's is truly beautiful, the soft silk-like fabric glittering in the sunlight as she walks. The soft pinks and whites melt together in the form of a simple dress, and it's clear that she's designed it herself by the way she walks around confidently.

Keith himself loosens his scarf (which may or may not be his favorite part of the outfit) a bit before accepting Lance's offer. He's not quite in a festive mood yet, but it's clear they everyone — Lance especially — are trying their best to lighten the atmosphere, so Keith plays along and tries to offer a bright smile. Although, the strange expression on both of their faces is a bit off-putting.  

"No, seriously,  _try it,"_ Lance pushes. 

Tentatively, Keith licks it. 

Then immediately  _tears up._

 _What the FUCK,_ a part of him thinks, suddenly desperate for milk or water or  _anything_ to combat the sudden  _pain_ his mouth is going through. Despite his sudden coughing fit, he can hear Lance and Pidge's howling laughter. 

"Oh my  _god,"_ Pidge chokes out, "I didn't think you'd actually give it to him. I'm sorry Keith, I thought you would know — it's a classic prank." 

"Hey,  _you're_ the one who goaded me into it!" Lance says angrily, although he can't stop giggling himself. Keith just gives the both of them a  _look,_ and that sends them into another fit of laughter. 

 _"Lance,_ jeez," he hears Shiro say as the rest of the group catches up. "I thought you said you wanted Keith to have a fun time."

"He is having a fun time" Lance says with a pout. "Look at him."

Keith momentarily pauses in his coughing fit to give Lance the middle finger.

"Yeah, looks like Keith is having a  _blast._ Aren't you glad we're your friends?" Pidge says sweetly. 

He growls a before relaxing as Hunk solemnly hands him a bottle of water. As soon as he chugs it all down, he grits out a quiet  _"fuck you,"_ and it's horribly hoarse and a part of him still flinches, thinking  _wrong wrong WRONG,_ but then everyone laughs — and he's laughing along  _with_ them and the contentment of having fun with them, his  _friends,_ overrides the panic. 

Keith buries his face into the soft scarf around his neck, hiding his red cheeks. Flower petals dance from the newly-budded trees and land on top of all of their heads. It's a relatively warm day, and the sunlight paints everything with such a rosy shade.

Smiling to himself, Keith observes his friends as they make their way down to the next stall. 

He's going to miss them. 

* * *

 They say time passes when you're having fun, but the day comes to an end way  _way_ too soon.

After jumping around the food stands, they lounged around the market stalls and tried to find the weirdest trinkets they could. Then they bought hideous jewelry for each other and spent _way_ too much money trying to get some sort of duck plushie from a crane machine, which was given to Keith at the end. Allura nearly threw a fit when Pidge unleashed a charm of illusionary hornets in the middle of the market square, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere with the sounds of panicked screaming and Lance's laughter. And Keith... 

...he's never had so much _fun._

When the sun sets and the fireworks are getting prepared, they all sit together on the picnic blankets brought by Allura and feast on Hunk's packed dinner. He's leaning on Shiro's warm back when the show starts, bright lights decorating the night sky with streaks of rainbow colors. 

Then, the fireworks end and... there's nothing left to do except go home. 

Keith awkwardly crosses his arms as they all stand at the end of the street. 

"So... this is goodbye for now, I guess," Hunk starts sullenly. 

Keith nods stiffly. 

"...Promise. Promise you'll keep in touch, Keith. Visit a lot, okay? Just because your new job is far away doesn't mean we'll stop being friends, right?" Lance's voice is soft, quiet. "And if you ever have trouble... know that we'll always be here."

"Yeah, who else is going to kick my ass home when I'm sick?" Pidge says lightly, but there's a soft undertone to her voice. 

"And who am I going to go to or when I need a third opinion on my recipes?" Hunk sniffles. 

"And where else will I get such a talented carver?" Allura adds. 

"What we're _trying_ to say is," Shiro says, "we understand why you're leaving but — we'll miss you." 

"And — and, well, when the weather gets warmer, I usually invite everyone to my beach house about two hours away. You should come along then, too,  _even if_ you're not an official Lion's Den member — you'll be a special exception." Lance tries to sound like he's joking around, but there's something heavy in his face. 

Keith just nods again and smiles — or tries to, anyways. He doesn't have anything else to say to them. 

 _You'd think after going through so many goodbyes in my life, it'd get easier,_ Keith thinks as he stares at everyone's somber faces.  _You'd think, but it doesn't._

_It really, really doesn't._

"Thanks for everything, guys" he whispers out. And when they all gather together for a group hug, surrounded by strong hands and  _warmth,_  for the first time in a long,  _long_ while, Keith feels like everything just might be okay.  


	11. someday I wanna find somebody to break through, I wanna smile with them all of the time too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith blinks. _What's 'it'?_
> 
>  _"We're going to my beach house!"_ Lance calls out excitedly a moment later. 
> 
> Keith blinks again. 
> 
> _I... I can't believe I missed being with these_ idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha i can't believe the last time i updated was last year!!
> 
> you know that was supposed to be a new years joke but it's actually been a very long time since i've updated and i have no excuses. my inspiration for most of this chapter came to me during my trip to korea over winter break so maybe i just needed the change of scenery? either way happy new years (ish) everyone hope 2019 is going well so far and uh here ya go folks
> 
> (also i know i promised to update this on the weekend but it took longer than expected so im sorry) 
> 
> (also also i have no beta reader for this so if you catch any errors or smth let me know!!)

Keith isn't sure what to expect from his first day of work, but an _office job_ definitely wasn't it. 

It's a two hour commute to the Galra Corp building, and it'd be much easier if Keith moved out of Silver (which was truly in the middle of nowhere) and into this new place,  _Naxela,_ but he can't bring himself to even consider it. He tells himself it's because he only recently moved and to have to relocate and situation himself in an entirely new place  _again_ would only bring more necessary stress. It's _n_ _ot_ because he's trying to hold onto this tiny hope that he'll wake up and realize meeting Lotor was all a dream and he's still employed at the Lion's Den. _Nope._

(He thinks about the possibility more than he'd like to admit). 

He's borrowing Shiro's car — and by 'borrow' he means using it until he saves enough to buy his own, which may or may not take years. His promised paycheck at Galra Inc makes the number of years a little shorter, though — that's one perk, Keith supposes. It's a ratty old Jeep and Keith plays Shiro's stupid classical music station the entire car ride there, which really says something about Keith's current mental state. 

He approaches the 20-story tall glass building with unease. The words 'GALRA INCORPORATED' looks menacing, even under the brightly lit sky. He sees Lotor waiting at the front entrance as he drives in, and in that split moment he wonders what it would be like if he just — hit the gas pedal and  _ran_ him over. 

 _Okay,_ Keith thinks to himself,  _Okay. Enough with the intrusive thoughts. You might hate him but he still has the power to hurt your - your friends. Don't fuck this up. Don't fuck this up like you did with everything else._

With that pep-talk in mind, Keith parks and gets out of his car with a carefully practiced smile. He hopes it's a little better than it was when he was in high school, because when he showed Shiro he looked genuinely scared  at this attempt.  _Jeez Keith,_ he had said,  _you're trying to make friends in school, not scare them. Just smile naturally — it looks much better. There, see?_

The memory of it brings a bit of a real smile to his face. 

"Keith! Glad you made it," Lotor calls out as Keith approaches. He smiles back himself, and it's all teeth. Keith can't help but feel like he's looking into the jaws of a predator. "Here, let me show you around and explain what you'll be doing. Come in, come in." 

When Lotor firmly grasps his shoulder to lead him inside, it takes all of Keith's willpower not to shake him away. 

Really, it's a miracle he hasn't punched him at this point. 

He hadn't been able to get any information as to  _what_ he would be doing, and now he realizes he should have made an effort. But he had been so vehement to the idea of contacting Lotor again after their fight at the arena that he hadn't done much to prepare for this supposed new job... at all. 

_Shiro would be so disappointed._

The first floor is a lobby, and the receptionist with a high ponytail and ridiculous amount of makeup sends both of them a bubbly smile. "'Morning Captain! And new guy!" The nametag on her uniform reads  _Ezor._

"Morning. Send the usual up thirty minutes later than usual. I have to give _Keith_ here a tour." 

He does not like how he says his name one bit. 

 _Patience yields focus,_ he tells himself with a deep breath. Whatever is going to happen here, he's just going to have to roll with it, in the same way he's rolled with all the shit life has thrown at him. Keith has been through worse. Probably. He hopes.  

Can't be that bad, right?

* * *

Keith is suited for a variety of things, he supposes. He studied well in school and also excelled at sports. He knows how to work with his hands and can craft delicate figurines if given a knife, some wood, and a lot of time. He's learned a lot of 'street smarts' from his time at the Arena, and knows how to defend himself. 

But working at a huge corporate building as a finance manager is... 

... not going to be easy for him. 

"All you have to do is go through our old records and make sure they match up with our receipts!" Lotor says sweetly, as if it'll take him a day at most, not his entire life. He tries not to think about just how much Galra Corporations makes and spends every day because then he'll really realize just how in over his head he is at the moment. Fucking  _paperwork._ Who ever thought he'd end up doing  _paperwork?  
_

"The files date back to hundreds of years, but you can just start with the ones starting thirty years ago! And the receipts should all be gathered on the third floor."

Third floor. Keith's pathetic excuse of a working space called a "cubicle" is on the twentieth. He can basically  _feel_ Lotor's enjoyment from this.

"And the files are just a floor above you, so whenever you've settled in you can head up and get the files you need. Oh, and let's say... try to get through a week of expenses each day? and after you finish  _all_ thirty years of work then... well, we'll talk then. if you fail to meet this quota, then..." and then Lotor smiles and it's more real than anything he's shown today, "well, maybe I'll get one of your friends to  _motivate_ you. Up to you, though. Lunch is at 12 sharp, so i'll see you then! If you have any more questions, you can just see me on the ninety-ninth floor!" 

Keith sees the other office workers give him a sympathetic grimace as Lotor straightens his suit and makes his way to the elevators. Lotor went through everything so quickly that Keith only knows about... five floors out of the astounding hundred the building offers. And where are the bathrooms again? Keith isn't sure where the bathrooms are. 

 _Fuck,_ he thinks to himself,  _I'm so screwed here._

* * *

"Hey, Keith, deliver these to Mr. Sendak for me?" A voice calls from Keith's left. 

He looks up from his paperwork to see his cubicle-mate — a quiet, stoic man by the name of Ulaz — holding out a manilla folder.

Yeah.  _Sendak,_  or  _Mr. Sendak_ as he likes to be called.Like the same guy who fought him at the Arena. It's still super awkward to be in the same room as him, and Keith would rather spontaneously combust than deliver these stupid papers, but he supposes he has to do his job, unless he wants his friends to spontaneously combust along with him. _Stupid capitalism and it's stupid super corporations._

He gets up from his chair — or tries to, at least. A moment later the edges of his vision black out and he has to hold onto the flimsy dividers to avoid falling over like some sort of drunkard. Ulaz sends him a concerned look, but Keith does his best to smile to say  _I'm okay._ Even if he actually feels like his head is a balloon slowly rising to the stratosphere. Even if this the umpteenth time it's happened since he started working here — how long ago was it? three weeks? A month? Even longer, maybe? 

 _This is it,_ Keith thinks,  _this is how i'm going to die. From this stupid office work in this stupid office building._

A part of him realizes Lotor must be doing this to him on purpose. Melting his mind with stupid office work that barely means anything and then wearing down his body with the Arena fights at night. His day job isn't  _difficult,_ but it's tedious and he feels his brain cells dying one by one as he strains his eyes along tiny text for eight hours straight. 

And _damn_ the Arena fights. Haggar is calling him more and more often, and while they're suspiciously perfectly held at the most convenient time for him, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Work ends at six for him, meaning he goes home at eight. His matches are usually held at 8:30, meaning he has just enough time to change, leave his work stuff at home, and then make his way to the ring. He fights until ten, and makes it home around thirty minutes later. Eating dinner, showering, and getting ready for bed takes until midnight, and at that point he passes out on whatever flat surface he can find first, whether that be his couch or his actual bed, or if the day has been especially rough, the carpeted floors. His alarm goes off at five am the next morning so he can get to work by 7:30. 

 _What floor?_ he gestures to Ulaz, because even if it feels like he's already been here for years, he still has no idea where anything might be. Except the exit. Every day he likes to imagine what it would be like if he just yelled,  _"I QUIT!"_ before storming down to the ground floor and pushing through the heavy, ornate doors for the last time. 

But that's a dream that will never happen for a multitude of reasons, so Keith just imagines it's his last time every night when he's allowed to leave at six. It's a little pathetic, but no one has to know.

"The fortieth," Ulaz answers, before turning back to his own work. 

Keith tries not to groan at how far away that is from him. You'd think that a company as big as Galra would invest in better elevators but apparently not. 

 _Six more hours,_  he tells himself.  _Six more fucking hours. Let's go give these papers to Sendak and get it over with._

He doesn't allow himself of tomorrow — his focus is on surviving the day, so he can survive the next. 

* * *

Somehow, Keith finds himself slipping back into old habits. 

For a while, he had thought he was a changed person. That even if he went back to the Arena and out of the Lion's Den, he would still hold himself together. That he could hold onto the warmth of his friends and continue to look at everyone with kindness, and maybe trust the world around him a little more.

But his early office mornings blend into his arena nights, and each fight becomes blurrier and blurrier, and Keith wonders why he ever believed he could change. He's been the same since his time in foster care, when he was with Shiro's family, and when he attended college. 

He's a _fighter_ , and there's the force of gravity and stars and fire in his blood. 

Even meeting the kindest, nicest people in his life can't change that.

He squints when a spotlight passing through momentarily blinds him. His opponent — and Keith can't even remember his name, all he knows is that he has some sort of water magic — takes that moment to leap, leaving behind a crackling trail of blue.

Keith breathes, and lets his body move for him.  _Side-step, dodge, counterattack with a punch._ It lands solidly on the opponent's cheek. He goes flying, light burn marks already singing his skin. 

The sound of a body impacting against the wire mesh stage makes Keith head spin. For a moment, he stumbles over nothing, heart beating way too fast and eyes focusing on nothing. 

Then, the world realigns himself and Keith is brought back to the sound of a roaring crowd and that stupid announcer calling him the winner. 

 _Oh,_ he realizes, looking at the crumpled body.  _I knocked him out._

 _Oh,_ he realizes,  _I have to walk off the stage now._

He feels as if he's been living the past few days in some sort of strange, out-of-body haze.  _Dissociation,_ Coran might have mentioned once. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. All Keith knows is that he's been losing himself, slowly but surely, over the past who- _knows_ -how-long. He's been swimming in and out of reality, to the point where it feels each day is experienced through stilted snapshots that take hours to develop, the camera never quite focused. And  _really,_ he should be more concerned about his physical and mental health — but he can barely think straight these days. 

All he wants to do is go  _home._

And coming back to his apartment after a long area fight, knowing he'll have to wake up at the crack of dawn for his 2-hour commute to work, he's not sure where that  _'home'_ is anymore. 

* * *

He means to visit the Lion's Den at  _some point._ Really, he does. He promised he wouldn't shut everyone out, promised that nothing much would change once he started his new job. 

But Lotor seems to be forever short on workers and constantly calls him on his supposed-to-be-free weekends. And then there are countless days he stays late just to fill Lotor's stupid quota, because he found all the receipts starting from fifteen years ago are completely out of order. A part of him wonders if it's even legal for him to work that much — but then remembers  _who_ he's working for and realizes that anything they do is legal. Galra Corps essentially owns the  _universe_ at this point. 

So he doesn't  _mean_ to keep cancelling everyone's plans to meet up. But it just keeps on happening to the point where they stop making plans with him altogether. 

 _Just let us know when you're free,_ they tell him kindly. Except the few, rare moments he  _is_ free, he's so exhausted he ends up sleeping for most of the day. He's been doing that a lot, whenever he can, lately. Sometimes he's so tired he falls asleep at work and Ulaz has to kick the wall separating them to keep him up. He wonders if he's getting old now... or just stressed. Probably just stress. 

So this sort of strange  _disconnect_ continues for weeks, and then for a month straight there's just — radio silence on the Lion's Den side. Shiro is the only one who updates him, and his texts are sporadic at best. Really, the fault for all of this just lies on... Keith. 

Because Keith — well, Keith has always been a loner. 

It's like a sort of complex he has. The people at the Lion's Den are, sadly, the closest he's ever been to a group of people. And even then, his friendship with everyone only lasted a month or two before he started drifting away. Well, in his defense the drifting away only happened because of his shitty situation, but he doesn't doubt that it would have happened at some point, Haggar or no Haggar. Growing up at an orphanage, and then growing up isolating himself in fear of hurting others, he's gotten used to having to fend for himself. Of people coming and leaving. Of finding warmth, only for the fire to go out and to go cold again. 

So he's  _not surprised,_ just disappointed, that in the end he did exactly what he usually does. That it ended up like  _this._ That he let himself believe that things could be different, for a second. 

Then the spring days gets warmer and warmer, and when he's finally accepted that his old friends won't ever want him back — 

— they start chasing after him. 

It's some Saturday or another — he's not quite sure, all he knows is that it's a  _weekend_ meaning he can  _rest —_ and he's awoken at some awful time to rapid knocking on his door. 

For a brief moment, Keith ignores it. Then, when the knock comes back, realizes  _who the fuck would be knocking on my door?_

Is it the landlord? He paid his bill on time this time, he's sure... or was that last month? what month was it again? 

 _Fuck,_ he thinks, giving himself one more second of undisturbed peace before the knocking returns and he has to get out of bed.

And then he sees  _them._ So bright he almost has to squint to look at them. Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Coran, and Allura, all wearing... bathing suits with... a huge minivan street parked in the streets. 

"Keith!" Lance calls out first, "Good to see you!" 

He says it as if they've been talking everyday, and that this isn't their first time making any sort of contact in months. He says it as if he can't see the deep bags under Keith's eyes and the horrible, unkept state of his apartment behind him. 

He says it as if they're still good friends, and Keith wonders why the fuck they'd still want to hang around him. 

Keith stares at them as if they've grown second heads. He opens his mouth, and for a brief moment he's afraid he's lost his voice already — but a croaky  _"what?"_ falls out of his mouth and there's no choking on his words so far. Which is a relief. He's almost forgotten what it was like to feel comfortable enough to talk out loud. Keith squints at the sky, wondering what time it is. And why the fuck they're here at 7 AM, or some other ungodly time in the morning. He expresses this idea as best as he can using his limited vocal range and sluggish but angry hand movements. 

"First of all, it's 1 in the afternoon," Hunk says. "and second, we're holding an intervention."

Keith raises an eyebrow at that.

"You've been working 66 hours a week on average... and sometimes even more if you work on Sunday. You should at least be making sufficient cash after all those hours and yet you payed your rent three days late a week ago, and your bank account isn't as full as —"

 _"Stop,"_ Keith croaks out, because he really doesn't want to hear more. He knows how pathetic his life has become. How in the world  _Pidge_ knows though, in that level of detail, he's not sure he wants to know.  So he keeps his mouth shut and looks to the floor and hopes it'll suddenly open up and swallow him whole. 

"What Pidge is trying to say is that you've been overworked and under-compensated, which is something we want to help with, but we _haven't_ been able to because we haven't seen you in a long time — which isn't your fault at all, of course. We understand. But we knew if we just asked you about it beforehand, you'd say no... that's why we decided we'd just take you without asking first!"  Hunk rambles, looking at him hopefully. 

Keith blinks.  _What's 'it'?_

 _"We're going to my beach house!"_ Lance calls out excitedly a moment later. 

Keith blinks again. 

 _I... I can't believe I missed being with_ _these_ idiots.  

"Come on, please please  _please?"_  Lance whines, practically collapsing onto Keith's doormat. He's giving Keith puppy-dog eyes, which only makes him want to say no even more. "It'll be so much fun!"

"I have work," he's about to say, or  _wants_ to, at least, but Allura steps up with a fierce look in her eyes that makes Keith's voice die in his throat. 

"Don't worry about work, Keith. You're long overdue for a vacation. And if they have a problem with that," Allura tilts her head a bit and smiles, "they can have a little chat with  _me."_

Keith gulps. Okay. Okay, this is happening. He's being forced on a beach vacation with people he hasn't had contact with for weeks and  _oh,_ when was the last time he went out under the sun for longer than thirty minutes? He can't even remember. 

 _Fuck,_ he thinks to himself as everyone settles into his apartment,  _I really_ missed _being with these idiots._

* * *

Shiro and the crew are packing for him. Maybe a month ago, he would be a little concerned for his privacy, but watching everyone comb through his apartment he realizes he's gotten too jaded to care now.

 _Jeez, when did I get so pessimistic,_ Keith thinks to himself sullenly as Lance and Pidge scream over the pictures of younger Shiro Keith has. 

At this point his phone pings with a notification from Galra Corps — they're giving him a week off. He's so surprised he can't help but let his jaw drop.  When he looks up, he sees Allura give him a thumbs up. 

He tries to ignore the sudden fear in his stomach and makes a mental note to _never_ get on Allura's bad side. Or Pidge's now that he thinks about it. 

"Wow, Keith, your wardrobe actually sucks. No wonder you look like a hobo like half the time. No offense," Lance calls out from his room, probably shifting through his closet. 

 _Ah,_ a part of Keith recalls,  _right. Lance is a such a dumbass sometimes._  

"Lance if youre going to be stupid go be stupid somewhere else," Pidge calls out, and Lance makes a pained sound. 

"Hunk! Defend me!"

There's a bit of a pause, then, "um, sorry dude. That was a mean comment. Keith doesn't look like a hobo."

"Everyone here hates me," Lance whines. Then says, "geez Keith do you have anything that isn't black or red?"

This time, he gets up from his chair to kick Lance.

* * *

The drive there is chaotic, to say the least.

He's not sure why he expected otherwise. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge put together just spells trouble. Shiro likes to act like an adult but when he lets go, he  _lets go._ Allura is the same — she's more childish than Keith had first thought. And Coran? Well, Coran speaks for himself. He's stuck between Allura and Hunk, meaning at least he's not  _directly_ in the way of any trouble, although he wonders if it was a mistake to leave the biggest troublemakers by themselves at the back of the van. 

"Oi, Shiro!" Pidge calls out angrily, "change the fucking station! I'm tired of classical!"

"Shotgun controls the music. Sorry, I didn't make the rules." Shiro rolls down the window at this point and leans out a bit, lowering his shades with a smug look on his face. Keith can't help but let out a snort. "Or would you rather listen to Coran's ska albums? I think I see them right—"

 _"NO!"_ Everyone (except Keith, who is vaguely confused) calls out.

"Anything but the ska," Hunk whispers. 

"Excuse me, but ska is a forgotten art that deserves—" Coran starts, but he's instantly silenced by Allura who lets out a huge groan. 

"Coran, I love you, but please. Do  _not_ give the ska speech."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"I'll give you five dollars," she responds seriously, "And Hunk will bake you cookies for the rest of the week."

"Deal," Coran says smoothly, instantly shutting up a moment later.

Shiro takes the moment to increase the volume of the classical music station. 

Keith groans and covers his hands with his eyes. 

It's going to be a very interesting week indeed. 

* * *

The beach, strangely enough, reminds Keith of home. 

As soon as he has the thought, though, he wonders  _where_ such an idea came from. He never grew up near an ocean, or anything of that sort. In fact, this might be his... second? Yeah, second beach trip in his entire  _life,_ and the first one is a distant, forgettable memory at the back of his mind. 

 _Galra Corps is messing me up in more ways than one,_ Keith silently thinks to himself,  _making me think stupid things._

Behind him, the rest of the crew are unloading Coran's minivan. They're supposed to be here for a week, and as Hunk hands him his suitcase he wonders _(again)_ how in the world he managed to get a break from work for this long. It feels like just yesterday when Lotor called him in for work on Saturday  _and S_ unday because of some excuse he didn't really bother to hear. 

"Okay!" Lance calls out, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Welcome to my beach home! Shack! Cottage! Whatever you want to call it. We have some new guests," at that he looks at Keith, "and it's been a while for everybody else, so let's take this time to take a little tour and also set some ground rules."

Keith has to admit, not only is the view of the ocean gorgeous, but the cottage is really...  _homey._ The first floor has a living room, kitchen, bathroom and laundry rooms. The second floor is al bedrooms, and one of them leads to a veranda. There's not enough rooms for all of them to be separated, so Keith is staying with Shiro, Allura with Pidge, and Hunk with Lance.  

The first few hours there are spent settling in and unpacking. Pidge sets up a gaming console in the living room, and Keith listens to the sound of their competitive screaming while resting in his temporary room. The windows overlook the ocean perfectly, and he observes the crashing waves with a strange sort of calm. 

It's like nothing has changed, but at the same time everything feels different. 

"You're not gonna join the others? They're playing Mario Kart, you know," Shiro calls from behind him. 

Keith looks back to shake his head, and notes how healthy Shiro looks today. Despite the white in his hair, and his worn-down prosthetic, there's a twinkle in his eyes and a flush to his skin. His face is well kept, and his body is fit. He's reminded of when he first moved to Silver, when the change in his brother had surprised him. Because before then, all he knew was the broken version of his brother. The jaded one.

Now? Now, of course, he's not the  _same_ as when he was younger, but he looks — matured.  _Good._

Keith looks at his own reflection in the mirror and wonders if he's reached that point yet. He doesn't think so. He doesn't really think he'll ever reach it. He took the once chance he had to really change his life and ruined it. 

"Um — " and Shiro pauses, and it's a little strange cause Shiro  _never_ pauses — "are you... okay? I — we kinda forced you to come with us, and it's been a long time since we've gathered like this, and..."

"No," Keith interrupts quietly, shaking his head again. "No, this is fine. I... thank you, Shiro." 

And he means it. Really. 

* * *

The next few days are the most fun Keith's ever had. 

They spend the mornings on the beach, doing stupid shit like making sand castles and pushing each other into the ocean. It's all disgustingly  _normal,_ if you don't count the number of times Lance has used his domain advantage to randomly drench people, and for a while Keith lets himself get lost in it. Hunk cooks the meals, and they're always warm and delicious and  _nothing_ like the shitty lunches he buys for work. 

Sometimes they'll spend most of the day outside — other times they head back in after a few hours and play Mario Kart and Monopoly. Sometimes they work on their own magic. Hunk spends a lot of time refreshing a few dream charms he's left behind on past trips. Pidge, if she isn't lazing around, tinkers with her charms as always. Allura spends every morning meditating, occasionally telling everyone what the weather will be for the day. Shiro and Lance work together, Lance calling in ocean spirits and attributes for Shiro to infuse with. And Keith?  
  
Well, of course, Keith spends his free time napping or reading. Occasionally he'll watch other people work.

He tries to ignore the swelling feeling of panic as the end of the week gets closer and closer.

(He's not very successful) 

* * *

 Keith can't sleep one night. It's not an uncommon occurrence, and usually he would just stay in bed and pretend to be sleep until he actually did. He's not sure what overcomes him, then, but he finds himself leaving the bed instead. Shiro snores quietly in the bed next to him, so Keith takes care to be quiet as he slips out.

Moonlight spills across the floorboards. His internal clock tells him its around 2 o'clock AM. He lets his body move without thinking too much into it, and a few minutes later he finds his feet stepping outside and into the cold sand. His eyes scan the black ocean, a crescent moon barely reflecting in the water, and to his surprise finds another figure sitting near the rock shore. 

Despite his silence, Lance turns around almost immediately, and waves him over. 

"Hey," he greets, and for once his voice is quiet. "Couldn't sleep?"

Keith nods. Takes a seat next to him, and turns his head towards the crashing waves. 

"Me neither. I haven't been near the ocean in so long, and sometimes it — calls to me. Does your magic ever do that?"

Keith shakes his head. He's spent his entire life trying to shut his own magic out. 

 _But if I hadn't,_ he wonders,  _would I also be called to space? To the stars?_

The next few moments are in silence. 

"I hope you're enjoying yourself here, dude. I... We've all been worried about you. You deserve a break."

Another nod. Another moment of silence. Surprisingly, though, Keith doesn't find it awkward. It's _calming,_ actually, just sitting under the night sky at some awful time in the morning with Lance, talking about... whatever. 

"Galra Corps is awful," Keith whispers into the night. He's not sure what compels him to say it, but it spills out from his mouth anyways. Lance, in return, gives him a sympathetic wince. He twirls his fingers almost mindlessly, and a bit of the ocean dredges itself up to Lance's hand, glowing with magic. 

"I— you know," he begins slowly, "I used to work for them too. Galra Corps. It was — It was my first year of university, I think? And I was so excited, you know? I was pretty new to the country, I had just started college, and a company that  _big_ wanted to have  _me."_

Keith looks at Lance with surprise. He hadn't expected that. A part of him vaguely recalls Hunk mentioning Lance's bad work experiences and wonders if Galra was the culprit. Looking at the almost blank look on Lance's face, he's pretty sure he's right.

"They worked me to death, Keith. If it hadn't been for Hunk, I probably would have exploded from the stress, or something." Lance chuckles a tiny bit at that, and Keith stays stoically silent. "It was horrible trying to balance school and my job, and it was all so overwhelming. And the people at Galra weren't... the nicest either. They always... yelled at me for doing a bad job, and shit like that. It was to the point where I was convinced I was horrible at everything and considered dropping out of the Garrison or ruining my scholarship because they convinced me I didn't deserve to be there."

"U-Uh," Keith stutters, because he's not sure if he can  _say_ anything that will help. Or be useful to the conversation.

Thankfully Lance doesn't seem to mind his lack of words. "It was to the point where all the stress got me physically and mentally sick and I had to be hospitalized. And that was the wake up call — I was like, what the fuck am I doing? Why am I doing this to myself? What do I want to do now? And really, the answer was there the first day I worked for Galra. I wanted to quit, and I wanted to continue my education at the Garrison so I could become a licensed witch instead of becoming a corporate slave to Galra. And so that's what i'm trying to do now. It's not easy, obviously, but now i've got good friends and a positive work environment to back me up. And I guess where I'm going with all of this is that — you don't have to push yourself away. I know you wouldn't leave us for  _them_ without a good-ass reason, but that doesn't mean you have to shut us out forever. We're here for you, no matter what. We won't judge you for anything."

"I —" and Keith shuts his eyes, shuddering.  _I murdered three people, Lance,_ he wants to say.  _I murdered my adoptive family and maybe they didn't love me like I wanted but they didn't deserve that._

 _You should_ hate _me._

_I don't want the same to happen to you. To everyone._

But when Keith opens his mouth, all that comes out is a choking silence he's gotten used to. 

"That's okay," Lance quickly replies. The water seems to reach out to him, like hands grasping for something solid, before returning sadly to the sea. "Just... whenever you're ready, okay? We'll be here for you. That's all I wanted to say." 

Keith just nods, unable to say anything back. 

* * *

The next day he wakes up with no memory of how he made it back to the cottage and a splitting headache. Everyone else goes down to the beach to hang out again after a hearty breakfast, but he tells everyone he's not feeling well and holes up in his room, dedicating himself to watch everyone from his window. 

Of course, after doing a mental head count of everyone outside, he realizes there's one person not out there. And sure enough, when he turns around, Shiro is giving him a soft look from the doorframe. 

"Hey," he begins slowly. This scenario is starting to become a familiar routine, Keith notes. 

Keith thinks back to the heart to heart Lance had yesterday night and internally groans. He's  _not_ emotionally ready to have another one, and he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't feeling well — he feels physically fatigued, as if something is eating away at him from the insides, which unfortunately has become a common feeling over the past few recent weeks. Not that Shiro or anyone needs to know. 

Shiro, who's staring at him with his  _'we need to talk'_ face.

Keith just sighs before turning to look back at everyone else. Lance and Hunk are trying to set up a beach volleyball game. Pidge sits atop a flat rock and types away on her laptop. Coran is trying to get Pidge off said laptop, and Allura is collecting seashells. 

"Hey," Shiro says again. "Keith. It's been a while, huh? Since we've all gone out like this. Or at least, between you and me... It's fun, I think." 

Keith keeps staring out into the beach. Lance has managed to accidentally hit Pidge's laptop with a volleyball and now Pidge is chasing down a screaming Lance with murderous intent. He smiles a bit, before turning back to Shiro.

"Yeah," Is all he says back.

"The week's already almost over, huh?" 

"Mhm."

"Lance said he's cooking tonight. So just in case I was thinking of ordering."

"...Good idea..."

Silence, again. Then — "Keith," Shiro starts with an exasperated sigh, "I'm getting tired of... _this."_

"I don't—"

"Don't give me that ' _I don't know what you're talking about'_ crap." Shiro interrupts. "I— I mean, it's just — you leave us hanging for  _weeks_ on end, according to Pidge you're overworked, and don't even  _try_  to lie to me, I know you've been going back to the Arena and — I'm just can't help but wonder...  _what happened?"  
_

Keith's throat feels like sandpaper, words clogging up his lungs and making it hard to breathe. 

"Let me ask you honestly. You trust me, right?" Shiro sighs with a calmer tone. There's a  _look_ in his eyes, and Keith is forced to stare at the floor instead. 

He nods once. 

"Then let me be here for you. Whatever you're going through, you don't have to force yourself to do — whatever  _this_ is." 

And — and then, Keith's heart begins to stumble. 

 _God,_ he's been trying to ignore it over the past few months. But coming here, being with everyone again — it's like he's being forced to open his eyes and _see_ just how horribly he's been doing. _I miss them,_ he realizes,  _I miss them so fucking much and I can't do anything about it._  He's fallen back into his old habits and he can  _feel_ his body deteriorating from the stress and who  _knows_ what, and he's just so tired. 

 _These people are my home,_ he realizes.  _And I just want to rest._

But the week is coming to an end soon. and Keith will have to go back to his personal hell.  

 "Keith, _please_.  _Why_ are you making yourself go through this?" Shiro asks, stepping closer. "I'm an empath, you know. I can feel it. You're not happy. What's keeping you there?" And Shiro's embrace is so warm, so  _inviting,_ which is the exact reason why Keith pushes him away. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve  _this._

"S-shiro..." he stumbles, praying his voice doesn't betray how wrecked he feels, "I... I just... I don't want any more blood on my hands. I can't let it happen.  _Won't."  
_

"I don't understand what that —"

With that, Keith takes one last look at Shiro against the wall, the shining sun reflecting off his prosthetic. For a moment, he lets himself relish in the moment. Relish in the feeling of being surrounded by people who  _care._

And then, he closes his eyes and runs away.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe there's only one chapter left folks asl;dkfjsdfajsdf;akdsfl 
> 
> if 100 floors for a building sounds unreasonable i just went to a department store tht was 128 floors tall and welp folks. it truly is possible. somehow. 
> 
> i wanted to write pokemon klance after this but i think i'm going to finish up all my unfinished haikyuu fics so uh,,,, if there are are any old readers interested in that there is Hope Soon. if youre a new reader here please consider checking them out and if you haven't watched haikyuu then GO do it Right NOW season FOUR is coming out this YEAR 
> 
> anyways tumblr died so you can check me out on my twitter @alluriart !!


	12. A flower bloomed inside of the mirror, and he finally replied “good morning” to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it folks. 
> 
> It's been a LONG year since i've started Quiet Words, and I honestly can't believe i actually got to the end of it. I'm super proud of myself for pushing my limits and publishing chapters even if i was scared of people getting disinterested in my story. This is an idea i fell in love with, and i really really hope that everyone reading this found something enjoyable in this universe. 
> 
> Thank you to all my supporters. Ever single kudos and comment really made my day, and the people who left a comment on almost/all chapters (You know who you are), you really have inspired me to keep trying to write to the best of my abilities throughout the whole thing. The original draft ended around <40k and had like half the scenes so this just wildly grew out my control AS USUAL so it was a journey for all of us 
> 
> again, this was inspired by the song [ Never lost word](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4Qqu16ffVk) by Jin and theres also an [English Version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_FjPxJF0oc) (where the chapter titles came from) by Jubyphonic so please check it out!! 
> 
> and without further ado THE FINAL CHAPTER !!

Keith remembers the day he got kicked out of the Garrison with perfect clarity. 

It had been half a year since the accident, and Shiro had recently gotten accepted into the Altea Program at the Garrison — the most academically challenging course at the famed school for magic, and also the most rewarding. A finished degree from there could get you a job almost anywhere you wanted, and only the most talented students made it. 

Despite the negative emotions Keith had been feeling regarding his brother, he was still proud of him. And he knew their parents would be too, if... if they could see where Shiro had gotten, despite the heavy weight of losing both parents and becoming the sole caretaker of Keith.

That was where his pride mixed with... anger? jealousy? he wasn't sure. All he knew was that it didn't feel  _fair._ Not for the first time in his life, he felt as if he were being left behind. Shiro was far from perfect, Keith knew, but he had somehow managed to stay  _afloat,_ somehow managed to keep living life as if nothing had happened. Shiro, despite all the broken pieces his life had shattered into, had miraculously stayed strong enough to piece things back together enough to move forward. And even if the steps were small, even if Shiro still had breakdowns and cried with Keith on multiple nights, he was still clearly getting  _better._

And Keith? Keith felt as he were drowning,  _had_ been drowning since he woke up in the hospital room alone. 

The barely-contained control he had carefully practiced was crumbling rapidly. He couldn't concentrate in class, much less pretend to care about anything related to school. His grades began to slip, and he started snapping back to his teachers. He was slipping back into his high school habits, the ones the Shirogane's had tried so hard to help him out of, and the fact that his parents weren't even  _alive_ to berate him for it hurt more than he could have ever imagined. 

And of course, Lotor had decided to rub salt in the wound.

His memories of the conversation exactly are quite fuzzy. Their professor had been a few minutes late, so everyone was chatting with their neighbors. Keith, as usual, made no attempts to socialize with anyone — or at least, that  _was_ his plan, until he heard Lotor speak up from a few seats away. 

"...doesn't deserve it," Keith had somehow picked up over the loud chatter of students. "Everyone knows that  _Shirogane_ only got in because they feel bad that his parents died — and if i have to hear another word about that  _star_ Kogane i'm going to puke. They're both just riding on each other's coattails and its —"

And well, Keith hadn't heard the rest. Because _somehow,_ he had found himself with a flaming fist raised, the other clenching Lotor's collar, smoke rising from the burning clothes. 

 _Take that back, you bastard_ he thought,  _I— Shiro worked so hard and — you of all people shouldn't—_

 _(Burning rage. Red, red,_ red,  _a sudden, unbearable desire to—)_

But nobody had heard him, and Iverson had chosen that moment to walk in. 

And really, he had been on thin ice before then. _Attitude problems_ , they said. _Wasted talent,_ they said. He had to be more like his brother, they said. 

But assaulting another student was crossing the line. Especially if said student was  _Lotor,_ son of the almighty Galra Incorporated. If it had been anyone else, maybe he could have argued, told someone about what Lotor said. 

Yet Keith had no voice. So he stayed quiet, and left the school before Shiro could find out about it. Took to the streets, where he met Haggar, and... well...

Here he was now. A washed up college drop-out who fought in illegal underground fighting rings. A nobody who had once again ran from the people who had tried to help him. 

_(distantly, he remembers,_

_A quiet night in the Shirogane household. It's only been a month since they found him, shivering and cold on the streets. They're discussing what to do with him — because Keith Kogane had been officially been declared dead, along with his three other foster family members half a year ago._

_"I'll think of something," Mr. Shirogane had said, determination in his voice. "He's just misguided. We can provide the direction he needs."_

_"He needs to be loved."_

He had accepted their care, despite everything telling him not to. Would they still think the same of him if they saw him now? Would they still  _love_ him?)

Keith is lucky that he has phone with him, because once he's made sure Shiro or the others aren't following him, he needs to figure out how to get home by himself. It had taken an hour to drive out here from Keith's place... he  _could_ walk, but he'd be exhausted. Who could give him a ride?

He looks around himself. He's on the side of an empty road, with nothing but trees on both ends for miles ahead. If he remembers correctly, there's no civilization for a long while. 

Great. If they were younger, Shiro would have definitely tried following him. But now, (he hopes at least) Shiro understands when he needs to be left alone. 

Lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn't realize there's a car coming up the road until it slows down and honks at him. 

The sight of the familiar vehicle instantly fills his stomach with dread. 

The window rolls down, revealing a very smug looking Lotor. 

"Keith! Just the man I was looking for." He grins, a maniacal look in his eyes. "Do you need a ride?" 

* * *

The car ride is awkward.

The radio is playing classical music, and hearing  _Shiro's_ music in  _Lotor's_ car is causing all kinds of dissonance in Keith's brain. He doesn't dare change the station, though, and maybe on any other day he would have — but the look on Lotor's face earlier makes him hesitate. 

He's scheming something. Although what it could be, Keith has no idea.

 _I just want to go home,_ Keith thinks to himself.  _I just want to rest._

 _"You know,_  " Lotor starts after they've been driving for a while. "You've ended your vacation at a perfect time, really. My mother asked that I come collect you for your next match. She apologizes for interrupting your time, but she simply  _couldn't_ find another day."

Keith does his best to school his face into a neutral expression. Lotor — he's probably just baiting him, trying to get him to do  _something,_ and whatever it is he won't play along. 

"Confused? Well, i'm sure you are," Lotor continues, as if Keith had said something. "Not many people know who my mother  _really_ is. She's had the pleasure of running the whole  _Arena_ business since its beginnings, and it's just not good for the company to have someone working in such an underground business. You won't tell anyone about it, though, i'm sure." He laughs at his own joke. 

Despite his best efforts, he can't help but feel a bit  _shocked._ If what Lotor is saying is true — then it would mean that —

"Yes, i'm sure you've realized it now. Haggar is my mother, and she wants to hold your championship title match _tonight._ I was  _so_ excited to hear the news, I just  _had_ to go and collect you myself!"

_Haggar is Lotor's mother._

Is that how she knew exactly how to appeal to him? how she knew where to find him, what to offer him?

Has Lotor been the reason for his suffering the past few  _years?_

For a moment, the car is silent. Lotor smirks at him as he takes a turn that Keith knows is in the opposite direction of his house. 

Keith, somehow, snaps without burning anything inside.  _" Why are you telling me this?"_

"Oh, Keith," Lotor croons. "I'm simply riling you up for our fight. No one likes a boring match, and i'd like for you to take tonight seriously. For the audience. It  _is_ a battle for your championship title."

_What? " Our fight?"_

"Yes, Keith. Tonight, your opponent is  _me._ _"_

* * *

Keith is ushered out of the car before he can fully absorb what Lotor has told him.

They've stopped at some sort of gas station, and the Arena bodyguards are already hauling him out before he can protest. Lotor sends him one last glance before heading in to the back of the small, run-down store. Keith himself is lead inside, where a team of makeup artists are waiting for him.  _Ugh,_ he forgot about this part. Something about looking good for the cameras on important matches. 

Speaking of, Keith hadn't even realized he had climbed to the championship title. But what was harder to wrap his head around was that he would be facing  _Lotor._

 _Lotor,_ who had no magic. 

Was Lotor insane? Or maybe Keith was the insane one, because he honestly had no idea what the hell was going on. Things were progressing to quickly for him to process, and  _wait Haggar is Lotor's mother I still cant' believe —_

"All done, Paladin," a monotonous voice called out. Right. He had a match to focus on. Did he even want to win? Why was Haggar making him go through this? 

A few of his questions had been answered, but now he had so much  _more._

"Now, if you could come this way," the same monotonous voice called. "You can get ready for your match in the dressing rooms below. Good luck, Paladin."

Keith wishes he could run — run, the same way he ran away from his family and friends, the same way he ran away from his home, just  _get out_ and be free, where no one can bother him and he can bother no one. 

 _But that's the cruel thing, isn't it?_ He can't seem to let go of his friends no matter how hard he tries to shake them off — and now he's run himself into a dead end. 

He lets himself be led downstairs, into the Arena. 

* * *

It's strange, Keith thinks, to see Lotor on the Arena.

Before, he had seen him as an evil co-worker. And before that, he was simply an evil classmate.

He does have to admit, though, Lotor looks as if he belongs on the stage. His costume is is a tight-fitting dark purple bodysuit made out of a rough, rubbery texture. His hair is tied into a high ponytail, only a single strand falling in front of his face. There are glowing highlights over his body, accentuating his lithe body, showing off his physical strength. His skin is the same sickly shade of Haggar's under the Arena lights.

Keith's own outfit of black and red, with the mask covering his face, seems to pale in comparison. But he knows it can protect him against basic spells, and most importantly, doesn't burn in the presence of his magic. 

"Keith," Lotor says in greeting, before the curtain rises. Even covered in darkness, Keith can hear the excited chatter of what is undoubtedly a huge audience.  _Everyone will be watching._ _Maybe even Allura and Shiro will figure out where I went and tune in._

He jumped so suddenly from his vacation to  _this_ hot mess. Keith hopes everyone else had a good day, at least. He knows they'd been looking forward to playing Mario Kart with him. 

_Maybe, one day, I can..._

"...Or should I say, Paladin? I look forward to our match. I know it doesn't matter much for someone like  _you,_ but... my name is Prince," Lotor smiles. 

And then, the curtain rises. 

There is no annoying announcer this time. The clear voice of  _Haggar_ echoes throughout the chamber, and Keith has to squint to properly look at the huge crowd that has gathered around them. She introduces them, gets the audience riled up.

This, at least, is something he's familiar with. 

 _“Begin,”_ Haggar’s voice says, starting the match.

And before Keith can blink, there's a flaming ball coming right at his face. 

He dodges it just barely, and the heat radiating from it just  _reeks_ of magic power. Before he can recover, there’s another one being thrown at him. And another.  _And another._

Keith tries to collect himself, tries to clear his brain while making sure he isn't hit. How was Lotor doing this? He must have some sort of incredibly powerful enchanted item — or, although impossible, it could also be that Lotor had genuinely...

"Surprised,  _Paladin?"_ Lotor mocks, lobbing forward another ball of fire. It oozes from his palms, undeniably  _his,_ nothing else in sight. Keith breathes heavily from exertion, and for a brief moment notes he usually doesn't get tired out this quickly. "Honestly, I'll have to  _thank_ you for this."

 _What the hell does that even mean?_ Taking his moment of confusion, Lotor's next attack grazes his arm, which now burns with a subtle heat. he quickly puts the fire out and jumps back, hoping that the distance between them will give Keith some time.

"You haven't figured it out yet? Do I really need to spell it out for you?" Lotor lets out a laugh as he launches himself forward, and Keith finds himself stumbling to get away. "Although, I know you've been trying to run from your own abilities your entire life. It's a shame, but it explains why you wouldn't recognize your own flames being thrown back at you." 

Keith blinks. His throat is tight, as if smoke is blocking his airways, taking away his oxygen and making it hard to breathe. 

_What the hell are you doing? He's just — trying to get your guard down._

Although it's not executed as smoothly as he would like, he ducks under Lotor's next attack and swings his feet forward, sending out an arc of weak flames to hold Lotor back. It's at this moment, when Keith realizes what Lotor is talking about. 

Everyone's magic is unique, even between the people who share the same elemental preferences. He's met a lot of other fire magic users before. Some used blue flames, others were a traditional orange-yellow. Some even had white flames. 

But Keith, he knows, is  _red,_ like rubies glistening under the sunlight, tapering off into a blaze that rivals the sun. It's how he got the title of the  _Red_ Paladin.  _Like blood,_ he's heard people say. 

And Lotor's flames look exactly like his own. Red, red,  _red like the—_

Lotor must see the exact moment he realizes , because his expression lights up, eyes shining with an unidentifiable emotion. 

"Have you ever considered where the magic Haggar 'contained' for you went? Did you really think there was a curse that just 'suppressed' your magic without doing anything more?" And when Lotor snaps, fire wraps itself around his arms. He's advancing closer, and all Keith can do is take steps back, horrified. "It doesn't make sense, does it? All that talent, that  _potential,_ wasted on someone who doesn't even want it. My mother and I decided to do a favor for you, you know. If you're not going to properly use it... why not give to someone who will?"

Keith makes a weak attempt to attack back, but Lotor dodges it easily. "Why not give it to  _me?"_

 _Fuck,_ is all Keith can think. His vision is blurry, and his mind is more sluggish than usual, and he can't help but think it's because Lotor is literally draining his life, his  _magic,_ from him.  _Fuck, I messed up._

"Of course, we made sure you wouldn't run away. Don't you see? all you did was exist on the coattails of your brother, and were essentially ensured a spot on the Altea program had you stayed. I came from having nothing. I still had _nothing_ from the longest time. But... I learned, and gained knowledge. I did my best and yet — yet it _still wasn't enough_ ..."

 _Did you really come from nothing though?_ Keith finds himself wondering.

Lotor had  _Galra Inc._ backing him up. He had a wealthy family, and a mother who was willing to go this far for her son. He had riches, friends, a proper social circle. The promise of an amazing life. 

Keith had grown up an orphan, abandoned before he could even understand what it meant. He had murdered three people, and lived on the streets. The only people who had showed him kindness had died too, and while this time it hadn't been his fault, it hurt even more. Only recently had things started looking up, and all of that had been ruined by —

 _How dare you,_ Keith thinks, sudden  _anger_ rising up in him.  _How dare you._ I _came from nothing._ I  _didn't ask for this. I never did. I never wanted this..._

 _"..._ I don't care if it kills you," Lotor continues, grinning. "I don't care if you die from this. I deserve this too, don't you think? Money and power doesn't mean anything in this world — the ones with  _magic_ rule. And I _need my throne."_

Keith is on the floor now. Lotor stand over him, his shadow seemingly larger thanks to the stage lights. "Thanks for your magic," Lotor croons. "Now your own flames will burn you to death.  _Goodbye."_

 _No,_ Keith suddenly thinks,  _no I won't._

Fire has never been his true magic. He learned how to convert his abilities to toned-down flames from Coran, and ever since then he's only used his fire. There was never a need to call to his  _real_ magic — it would be too dangerous,  _too much,_ and Keith knew only death and pain would follow should he ever let it go.

 _But stars,_ he recalls Shiro once saying,  _are also the source of life. We were all born from stardust, you know._

He needs to stop running away. 

And taking a deep breath —

Keith summons a star in the palm of his hand.

It pulses in tune with his rapidly-beating heart, glowing with the same red that plagued his flames. His hands feel heavy from the gravity each palm holds, a barely-contained explosion waiting to be released at a single thought.  

He gets up from the floor as Lotor only looks on with shock. And, for a brief second, Keith pities him. 

They’re opposites, but they’ve both been given hands they don’t want. If they could their switch their situation, he’s sure they would. He understands the anger, the _desperation,_ because he’s been living with it his entire life.

But the difference is that Keith has accepted long ago that life won't change. He's simply tried his best to live with what he has, and hurt as little as he could. Maybe he messed up along the way — no, he  _knows_ he messed up a lot along the way — but at least he tried to atone for his sins. 

At least he has Shiro and his friends to catch him if he ever falls too hard. 

 _Shiro, everyone,_ he thinks,  _I hope you're watching. I want to win this... for you guys._

He knows that some things just aren't meant to be. And it's clear by the way Lotor sways with a sickly glow, there's no way Lotor can actually match him. He's trying to absorb more from Keith, and his body cracks as it tries to hold what isn't his. _He'll destroy himself just for this?_

 _It won't work,_  he notes.  _My magic isn't fire. It never truly was._

Keith begins his retaliation. Suddenly, his mind clears and he hears the cheers of the crowd, empowering him. Maybe because he knows the people supporting him. He clenches his fists, stars expanding around them. They burn brighter, _stronger._

 _As much as he doesn’t like to admit it, magic is a huge part of Keith. It controls his actions and thoughts every day. It’s_ _ingrained_ _into his very being, as if he’s his own little miniature universe, his heart the sun and every cell and molecule around it planets that try their best to orbit without crashing._

 _There’s fear in Lotor’s eyes, and the sight of it makes Keith feel sick to his stomach._ He doesn’t want this. He _never_ wanted this.

“You can’t beat me,” Lotor says desperately. “We have the same  _magic_ now. We should be equal.”

Keith thinks about it.

 _No,_ he thinks. Now he’s the one looking down at Lotor.  _We’re not._

Lotor’s magic is fueled by bitterness and hatred. Keith’s is fueled by determination and fear. Lotor’s magic is a copy. Keith’s is his own.

 _Lotor’s_ magic is fire.

 _Keith’s_ magic is starlight.

The part of him that pities Lotor, that sympathises with him, wishes he could explain to him his thoughts. Why he’s suddenly fighting back. _For my friends,_ he thinks, _for the people who support me, I will win, and I will return home, and I will let myself be loved._

But he takes another glance at Lotor’s face, and realizes he would never understand, even if he used all the words struggling to climb out of his throat.

 _I'm sorry,_ Keith thinks, before releasing the force from his palms. 

Not towards Lotor, but towards the sky, where stars belong.

The cage of the arena doesn’t let it go far, but the burst of bright light decimates it. The audience gasps and screams at the sudden supernova, and Keith doesn’t dare to look up. The view is reflected in Lotor’s eyes, though, and soon enough granite and dust fall from above, the remains of Keith’s magic.

The entire arena stage is decimated. 

"I... I yield," Lotor chokes out. “You win."

Time seems to pass strangely after that. His muscles are sore, body undeniably in need of medical attention after what Haggar's curse did to it. Lotor gets up and moves away from the stage, and the sound of the audience is almost deafening. 

And Keith stands alone on his broken stage. 

* * *

He only remembers things in flashes after that.

Someone is calling him on his phone. Actually, multiple people are. He doesn't know anymore. He's home, or maybe he's still at the gas station, waiting for someone to pick him up. Who would pick him up at this hour? 

 _Shiro,_ he thinks, but if he actually ends up contacting him or just thinking about him, Keith isn't sure. 

At one point someone asks him how he is. There are lights — people running up to him, trying to guide him. He's being lead to bright lights, a siren, and  _oh, wait, Lotor burned me in that fight._

There's warmth. A familiar face. Perhaps he really did call Shiro, and thats why he's here. He's moving along in a truck. He thinks he's dissociating, although he can't quite tell. He's not sure whats going on anymore. 

 _Sleep,_ a voice tells him, and unable to resist, Keith closes his eyes.

* * *

He wakes up in a hospital room. 

For a moment, Keith doesn't remember anything that happened before. Then it all comes rushing back at him —  _running away, meeting Lotor, the fight, the_ curse,  _and then...?_

He blinks, noting that there are a  _lot_ of people in the room. Shiro, Coran, Allura, Hunk, Pidge, Lance... it's a bit overwhelming. They all perk up a bit when they notice he's woken up. 

"You've been out for two days, now," Allura says softly, approaching first. "How do you feel?" 

He tries to move his body experimentally. It aches, but there's nothing too pressing, so he simply nods. 

"I'm glad you're okay," Allura says a beat later, and horrified, Keith realizes there are  _tears_ in her eyes. "I'm so  _glad—"_

And suddenly, everyone is around him, hugging him and saying their various _I was so worried,_ and  _you better not do that again,_ and  _I'm so happy you're okay's._

It's a lot. Keith, unsure how to respond, just hums along and tries not to cry. 

(He may already be crying). 

"They finally give him some breathing room after a moment, but Shiro stays close and Keith is glad. He holds on to his hand, squeezing tightly as everyone looks at him expectantly. 

Right. They deserve an explanation. 

"How... m-much," he struggles to get out, voice quiet and shaky but  _determined,_ "do you guys know?"

"We found you collapsed on the side of the road. Someone else had called the emergency contact on your phone — Shiro, you know — and we all made it to you as fast as we could. Then we called the ambulance, and now you're here. The doctors were able to figure out you were cursed," Pidge begins, voice clinical. "Although who cast it, they don't know. Whoever it was, they had been slowly siphoning your magic over the past few  _years,_ but it was so slow the only symptoms were fatigue. Your body was also deteriorating, but again, nobody really noticed until it was too late. It seems that the curse had been slowly accelerating over the past few months and reached its peak during your, uh, fight. It managed to take a pretty big chunk of your magic before finally snapping off so..." Pidge falters at this point, "nobody really knows what your magic is like anymore."

 _Great, more complications,_ Keith can't help but think. He grimaces as he tries to cross his arms, realizing his arms are heavily bandaged. 

Hunk clears his throat. "I mean — we get it, if you want to rest more, and stuff. But um, do you think you could, like — explain. What the  _hell_ has been going on with you for the past few months. Cause I don't know if it's just me, but I'm like. Really confused. Like,  _super_ confused. Mega confused. I—"

"Hunk," Lance interrupts, serious for once, "we get it. And I, uh, agree. Whenever you're ready to share, I guess? We're here to listen." 

 _Now,_ Keith thinks suddenly,  _I want to tell them now._ He's tired of running away, of keeping things in. He knows now that these are people he can trust — people who he's willing to talk to, who won't turn away when he does. 

He's so  _so_ grateful for them.

So, as difficult as it is for him, Keith talks. 

He doesn’t go into much detail. Just talks about being an orphan, and how he first found out about his magic. How _scared_ he was. Fast forward to the accident, and what happened at the Garrison. Shiro makes a face when he talks about how Lotor antagonized him. Pidge snickers when Keith says he finally punched him and got suspended.

They grow silent, though, when he says how Haggar approached him. How she promised a future where Keith could be happy with himself, and wouldln’t have to worry about hurting his friends.

Then he talks about almost losing control of himself. How Haggar suggested he take a ‘vacation,’ and how he ended up moving near Shiro because he had no one else to turn to. How Haggar began to pressure him to go back to the Arena. How he called up Allura countless times.

Why he didn’t say anything about it, because he was so afraid of losing his curse and hurting all of them even _more_.

When he gets to the part about Lotor, and how horrible his job was, and how he kept on being pressured, his throat is dry and sore from overexertion. But suddenly it's like a fountain that won't stop — he wants them to hear, to  _listen._

And they all listen intently — Coran, Pidge, Lance, Hunk, Shiro, Allura. And he’s not unfamiliar with the concept of speaking but the fact that he’s being _understood_ …

…it’s something he never thought he would appreciate. But he does, _immensely._

When Keith is done, there's silence for a few moments. Then, Shiro, with the most serious face he's ever seen, says, "I am going to  _fight_ Lotor, and no one can stop me." 

For some reason, it's the funniest thing Keith has heard in a long time. He can't help but let out a snort, and soon everyone is laughing along with him. Keith wants to drown in this feeling of content. 

 _“Thank you,”_ he whispers, too tired to speak any louder. "And sorry."

“No problem,” Shiro adds anyways, expression soft.

“Thanks for the apology, but if you do this shit again I’m seriously going to murder you in my sleep.” Pidge mumbles.

“You’re welcome!” Coran says, unfazed. 

Allura sighs. “What Pidge said, but a little nicer.”

“Dude, don’t sweat it.” Lance grins.

“Anytime, man.” Hunk finally says. "You — you probably want some time to yourself, now, yeah? They said they were thinking of releasing you soon, so. That's something to look forward to."

"Okay," Keith says quietly, eyes already closing shut. 

And for the first time in forever, Keith drifts off to sleep peacefully. 

* * *

It takes a while for Keith to resettle.

It almost feels like moving in again, except this time he’s not surrounded by strangers. He knows his way around the streets. Knows not to be afraid to wave back at people, knows who will be kind enough to give him free samples and who has the dogs.

Knows he’s not alone, this time. 

For the first few days back, they treat Keith like glass. He doesn’t blame them, but it’s _annoying._ It isn’t until he rolls his eyes and makes a joke when everyone slowly begins to realize that Keith is going to be fine.

And then, like a stretched rubber band, things snap back into place — but at the same time, there are some differences.

Lance doesn’t shy away from him anymore. Isn’t hesitant to challenge to him to any competition, and has learned when it's okay to be loud and when Keith wants to be left alone. When he's up for it, Keith gladly goes along with his antics, and surprisingly enough they’re pretty evenly matched in terms of wins and losses.

Hunk chatters to him too. Keeps talking to him about his dreams. Keith now gives small replies when he can. Laughs along with his stories.

Pidge drags him into hex-making, even though Keith still has _no_ aptitude for that sort of magic. He enjoys watching her work regardless, and tries to guess what the things she makes does. He’s usually incredibly _wrong,_ but it’s fun.

Allura, despite what Keith put her through, greets him with a smile every day. They discuss books often, with Allura giving recommendations and Keith shyly showing her some of his own favorites. Allura likes fantasy and sci-fi the best. Keith, on the opposite side of the spectrum, likes non-fiction and informative writing. But when he convinces Allura to read the book about dreams (because she’s a dreamer, and she should know these things), and when Allura won’t stop bothering Keith until he finally begins a series on giant robot fighers that travel through space and time (because It’s a _classic_ and Keith needs to open his imagination), he doesn’t mind their differences too much.

Being reconnected with Coran, not as a therapist, but as a friend, isn’t as awkward as he thought it might be. He still likes to psychoanalyze Keith, but they talk about other things besides his mental health too. Like the brighter aspects of their childhood. And what kind of magic Coran has, if he even _has_ any (he denies it, but Keith won’t stop until he finds out the truth). Things like that.

Shiro supports him more than ever now. For a while, Keith doesn’t like the overbearing protectiveness Shiro has, but slowly begins to accept it for what it is. No amount of pouting can deter his brother, and sometimes he’s thankful. Other times, he’s just mildly annoyed. He’s even more annoyed when Shiro pokes fun at him, but there are times when he can’t hide his smile. 

His magic isn't something he touches until months later, alone with Shiro in the same clearing where he first met Lance and Hunk. He cusps his hands and tries to call upon a star, and for a brief moment, nothing comes. Then, like the aftermath of a supernova, soft smoke emerges from the palm of his hands. Surprised, he almost immediately dispels it — but Shiro's warm but firm hand on his shoulder has him clutching onto it, and it spins around his wrists harmlessly. Or at least, he hopes its harmless. That first day the most he can do is move the smoke around, and make it sparkle a bit under the sun. 

He still has so much to learn about himself. So much Lotor and Haggar (who mysteriously disappeared after that night) have broken, so much he has to fix. 

But he has his friends to help him along the way. Friends who don't care if Keith talks or doesn't, friends who accept him for who he is. He spends his days carving and working at the Lion's Den, and more often than not they go out to eat together at the local diner. 

After so many years of suffering, he lets himself have this happiness. It's fragile, and definitely not constant, but it's something he's trying to nurture.

Maybe his magic is still a mystery he has yet to fully figure out. Maybe there are days where he doesn't talk at all. Maybe there are days he wakes up at midnight, tears in his eyes, from nightmares of the past. But also, maybe there are days he doesn't care anymore. Where he calls up Allura for tea, where he talks to Lance about something stupid, where he cooks with Hunk, or helps Pidge out, or crashes at Shiro's place, or listens to Coran's horrible ska albums just for the sake of it.  

Yes, he doesn't care about how long it'll take him to fully recover. Because Keith is Keith, and his magic is his own. All Keith needs are his own, quiet words.

And that’s more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END! Wooow, whats next? Well, for now, I plan on continuing all the haikyuu!! fics i abandoned, although I may return to voltron after. Who knows? If you are interested please check them out, since i'll be updating them soon :D 
> 
> I hope the ending didnt feel rushed. I tried my best to flesh Keith out, my boi. It was a journey writing this from start to finish, and i want to thank each and every last one of you a final time for being a part of it. Thank you so much. I hope everyone who came by found they enjoyed this story, at least a little bit. 
> 
> You can come talk to me on my twitter @alluriart !! i have lots of headcanons for the afterstory (not that i'll ever write one, sorry folks;;) and for the pasts of the other characters (esp Lance) so if you're curious just let me know! i'm always happy to share :D 
> 
> This is completely unbetad so if there are any spelling errors please let me know so i can fix them. I tried to catch as many as I could but it's hard to see everything clearly when you've been writing for hours. 
> 
> With that, goodbye for now! Have an amazing day everyone

**Author's Note:**

> MmMmMMMM remember to like comment and subscribe ;) if you want to scream at me, or with me, you can find me on [My Tumblr](http://allu-ria.tumblr.com/)


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